Comes a Slytherin
by Lady Lance
Summary: Harry's an Immortal. Methos is Slytherin. Snape becomes a Watcher, and Duncan is very confused. This is an AU crossover with Highlander the tv Series
1. Author Notes

Title: Comes a Slytherin  
  
Author: Lady Lance  
  
Challenge info: 110. "Salazar Slytherin" is really just another pseduonym for Methos. 76. Another Charms class accident flings a Hogwarts student back in time a thousand years - right into Salazar Slytherin's first class. 83. This year's crop of new Slytherins are mostly undesirable. The Head of Slytherin House takes it upon himself to do a little "weeding."  
  
Pairing: Methos/Duncan MacLeod some Harry/Snape in the future implied  
  
Rating: PG-13 for violence  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Methos & Duncan, the concepts of Immortality used as well as the chapter titles that were shamelessly taken from episode titles all belong to Panzer Davis & related entities. Everything Hogwarts & Harry Potter related belongs to J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury & Scholastic. No money is being made, this is all in good fun.  
  
Summary: Harry's Immortal, Methos is Slytherin and Duncan MacLeod is just damn confused. This is an AU crossover with Highlander, the television series.  
  
Author's Notes: I did my absolute best to fulfill my challenge string, and while I admit I leaned rather heavily on "Methos is Slytherin" the others are in there, if you look hard enough. I must thank everyone that helped me stay sane while writing this, especially Koanju for her ongoing beta, advice and general encouragement. Kudos also go out to Lasultrix for agreeing to give this a once over. 


	2. The Gathering

1. The Gathering  
  
Hogsmeade was for once blissfully quiet after the last minute rush by students to pick up trinkets for their friends. It was the only reason Snape had finally "volunteered" to take Harry Potter out to the village to renew his supplies. Or, to be fair, the only reason he hadn't protested as vigorously as he might of. Of course, he recognized that Potter should be allowed to go-it wasn't the boys fault that his relatives had decided that winter holidays were the perfect time to take a cruise to the Bahamas, or that Death Eater activity had meant it a little too risky in Dumbledore's eyes to let the boy go without the supervision of a fully trained wizard. Snape just didn't see why he had to be the one to do it, when Minerva was perfectly capable of the task herself. Dumbledore naturally hadn't agreed, and so here they were.  
  
"What is it that you so desperately need, Mr. Potter?" he asked in the sarcastic tones reserved especially for him and his dull-witted classmates.  
  
Harry looked at his list, "I need some more parchment since Binns insists on having us write meter-long essays every other week, a new quill since Hedwig snatched my secondary one, refill some supplies for your class as Neville's accidents seemed to have consumed a rather alarming portion of both of our stocks, and some polish for my Firebolt."  
  
Snape scowled. "Next time I ask you that question, just give me the list as I don't care a wit about why you need any of it."  
  
"Very well sir, do you particularly care as to how we go about it?" He had a feeling that Snape wouldn't take well to his normal meandering path through the village.  
  
"Quidditch, the apothecary, and the stationary store. That will allow us to make a neat loop of the village, and end with us at the Three Broomsticks. Merlin knows I'll need something to drink by afternoons end."  
  
Harry made a face. "Really, professor, I'm not that bad of company."  
  
"You may not be, but Merlin knows that I will take an opportunity to have a drink when a situation allows for it."  
  
"Yes sir. Shall we begin then?"  
  
Snape nodded briskly. "I wish to be back to the castle within an hour's time. This is normally my day off, and I'd prefer not to waste it anymore than strictly necessary.  
  
Harry sighed, "Yes, sir," and with Snape following behind, headed off to get his polish.  
  
* * *  
  
Methos examined the busy street, his eyes finally coming upon a sign that read "The Three Broomsticks." Not bothering to check if Duncan was still following him, he headed in, and grabbed a bench closest to the fire. Duncan straggled in a few seconds later, his arms laden down with packages.  
  
Well, the packages weren't the burden so much as the many strange sights that Duncan had taken in. When Methos had agreed to tour Scotland, he'd agreed to do so only if Duncan allowed Methos to take him to a few places that he'd wanted to see-and that they got to go to Egypt next year. Duncan had accepted, perfectly happy to get Methos to agree to go somewhere rainy. Of course, had he known that Methos was going to take him to this odd little town that seemed like it belonged in the 1800s as opposed to the late twentieth century, he might have reconsidered his easy acceptance.  
  
"Do you think next time you could help me carry bags? Considering that most of this stuff is yours, Methos." Duncan indicated the large stack of books rather wearily. "Those things are heavier than they look!"  
  
Methos promptly ignored him, choosing instead to order a glass of beer for himself and a shot of Firewhiskey for Duncan. When the barmaid had taken his order, he turned to Duncan. "You know you carry stuff because you love me. And besides," he nodded as the woman immediately returned with their order, "that is the best tasting whiskey you will ever drink."  
  
Duncan did his best too look doubtful, but picked up the shot glass and quickly downed the liquid, eyes wide at the burning sensation in his chest.  
  
"Whoa. That is good."  
  
Methos smirked, "What did I tell you? The perfect thing to warm you up on a chilly Scottish day."  
  
Duncan was about to launch into a story of how they warmed up on chilly Scottish days when he was kid, when the sense that one of their kind was near proved to be enough of a distraction that he dropped the story entirely, in favor of glancing behind them.  
  
By the door stood two men: rather, one full grown, the other on the cusp of adulthood. The adult with longish dark hair looked agitated, the boy just looked bewildered.  
  
"The boy?" Methos queried his partner.  
  
Duncan nodded slightly. "Do you think he knows?"  
  
Methos pursed his lips. "By that look on his face, I would guess not. Either that, or he's not used to it.I would imagine the two of us would make quite an impression one that seemingly young."  
  
The boy leaned over to his guardian, and pointed in the general direction of the two men. The older person looked at them speculatively, especially Methos. There was something in that look that Methos didn't like; it was almost a look of recognition. With a quick order to his charge, he headed over to the table, then to both Methos and Duncan's surprise, bowed.  
  
"Forgive my interrupting, Lord Slytherin.but my student seemed to get yet another headache and he is rather insistent that it is somehow your fault."  
  
"Slytherin?" Duncan asked, eyeing wearily both this gentlemen and Methos. He had a feeling it was getting time to learn another disturbing truth about Methos' past.  
  
Methos had looked shocked, but only briefly, his game face back on within milliseconds. "I'm afraid I don't know who you're talking about."  
  
Snape's lips curled up, and in crisp Latin muttered the phrase, "There is no black nor white. Neither good nor evil. There is only gray."  
  
Methos looked up warily at that. "And that proves that I am this person how?"  
  
"The phrase has been bastardized as it has been passed down.the modern form bears no resemblance. Not to mention, my Lord, your portrait hangs in my office."  
  
"Professor Snape?" The boy had moved up behind his professor. "Why does he look familiar?"  
  
"He should. Considering how much detention you've served this year, I would be more worried if he didn't."  
  
Methos sighed. "If we are going to talk about me, can we at least do it in private?"  
  
"Methos!" There went Duncan, getting all irritated because he always seemed to be the last person to know about Methos' past identities.  
  
"MacLeod, you'll find out soon enough, I'm sure. Unless we want a crowd to gather around us, I do suggest we get out of here."  
  
"Why don't you return to Hogwarts with us, my lord? The term is out, and not many students stayed with us. You would be undisturbed."  
  
"That sounds like it would work.what is your name, boy?"  
  
"Harry Potter, sir."  
  
Only millennia of practice allowed Methos to hide his surprise at learning that the one of the newest Immortals was a legend in his own right. "We have some things to discuss. Perhaps while I'm talking to.I'm sorry, what was your first name?"  
  
"Severus, sir."  
  
"Perhaps while I'm talking to Severus, my partner can tell you some of what you need to know."  
  
"Methos! What is going on?"  
  
Methos turned away from Harry and hissed, "Listen to me Duncan, you have no idea what's really going on here. For both our sakes, I want you to listen to me. We are going to go back to a nearby boarding school. While I talk with this man, you will talk to Harry about being an Immortal. Just the facts. Do not preach to him. Do not scare him. If what I've heard about the boy is true, then the last thing he needs is to be even more overwhelmed. We'll be safe there; the school was built on holy ground."  
  
The cold determination in Methos' eyes was enough to send a shiver down Duncan's spine and to make him obey. Whatever this secret was, it was obvious to MacLeod that it couldn't be let out into the open. If it was anywhere on the magnitude of Methos' past as a Horsemen, Duncan could understand why Methos didn't want anyone to know who he was. He shut his mouth and nodded curtly. Methos' secrets tended to be dangerous ones, and for strangers to be more knowledgeable of his friend then he himself was made Duncan upset, especially because he couldn't do anything about it.  
  
Snape looked amused as the dark haired man had been put in his place. Harry just looked fascinated by the whole thing.  
  
"We rode in on horses. We can meet you there."  
  
Snape bowed slightly. "If you wish. I'll be sure to inform our groundskeeper to make sure he has proper accommodation for your animals."  
  
Methos nodded slightly. "Which road do we take? It's been a while, I'm afraid."  
  
"If you go to the north side of town, you'll find a path. Take that and it'll lead you to the school. It's about ten minutes walking distance, so on horses you should be there in significantly less time."  
  
Methos nodded. "We'll get going then. It'll take us a few minutes to attach our purchases to the horses."  
  
"Don't worry about it, my lord. I can have them owled to the school. The local owl post has some eagle owls that are used to carrying heavier loads, especially if the goods are magically lightened first."  
  
"That works too. And look, Duncan, you don't even have to carry them."  
  
Duncan shot Methos a murderous glare, and Harry snickered. He liked this person, if only Harry could remember who he was. The one thing that was obvious to Harry was that this person must be powerful; Snape never gave such respect easily, let alone reverence if the wizard was ordinary.  
  
Methos stood, and set a few Sickles on the table. "We'll see you in a few."  
  
As soon as they'd left the room, Snape turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, grab Slytherin's things. As soon as we get these delivered to the Owlery, we can Apparate back." Harry had only gotten permission to Apparate recently because Voldemort's threat had grown so much that it seemed foolish for Harry to not be allowed to simply because he was too young.  
  
"Yes, sir." Harry stood still as he realized what had been said to him. His mind tried to wrap around the fact that this Muggle-looking wizard was Salazar Slytherin, the man whom people had thought Harry was his heir. Had it not been for Snape's churlish order to stop gawking at the rapidly disappearing figures of Slytherin and his companion, Harry might have stared for the rest of the day. Harry turned around, gathered his thoughts and his things and prepared to leave.  
  
Several minutes later they found themselves at the base of Hogwarts, just at the edge of the anti-Apparition wards. Even with the extra walk up to the school, they still beat their visitors by several minutes.  
  
* * * As Snape had promised, Hagrid met the visitors in the courtyard, ready to rub down the horses and water them, but he was hardly the only person there. Snape and Harry were there, as were two other elderly wizards. Methos was sure that others lurked about the courtyard, either not willing or too afraid to show their face.  
  
"Lord Slytherin," Snape began as Methos dismounted, "allow me to introduce Professors Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall, Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts."  
  
"A pleasure," Methos said distractedly. "Could you do me a favor and not call me Slytherin? It's been almost a thousand years since I went by that name. Call me Adam Pierson."  
  
Snape gave him a quizzical look, wondering about the name change, and looked decidedly uncomfortable by that request. "I shall try, my lo.Adam."  
  
He nodded slightly. "Thank you. This is my partner, Duncan MacLeod." Methos' eyes took a quick sweep of the castle.  
  
"Is it my imagination, or has the place gotten bigger since I taught here?"  
  
"Your eyes don't deceive you. Wings have been added on several times in the past few centuries. If you would like, I'm sure Mr. Potter would be delighted to give you a tour of the grounds, as he is quite familiar with them." Dumbledore replied politely.  
  
Methos nodded. "That would be appreciated-so long as Mr. Potter is willing to give the tour. I would hate to impose."  
  
Dumbledore gave him a steady look, implying that Harry had best say yes.  
  
Harry sighed. "It wouldn't be a problem, really, sir. I'm far enough ahead that my paper can wait a few more hours." Harry's mind churned. Did Dumbledore really expect him to jump for joy at the thought of giving the man that had directly and indirectly caused so many of the problems in his life a tour of the castle?  
  
"Shall we go inside then? It's not exactly all that inviting out here." Indeed, flakes of snow had begun to fall. There were various nods of assent, although it was clear that Dumbledore had many questions he wanted to ask Adam, and if Slytherin-if that is who it really was-decided that Dumbledore would have to wait to ask him, he would wait.  
  
Dinner was taken in the staff room for the six of them; Dumbledore left the other children under the charge of Professors Vector and Flitwick. Duncan had kept pestering Methos about what was going on, but he kept getting rebuffed with promises that he'd explain it "later." Finally giving up, he chose to spend the time before the meal contemplating some of the portraits that were gossiping as he passed.  
  
The meal was delicious and both Duncan and Methos had engaged in idle chitchat. After dessert, Methos was finally ready. He leaned back in his chair, a glass of wine in hand. He swirled it in his hand, taking a deep sip of it. "I am an Immortal. As is Duncan," he nodded at his partner, and looked briefly at Harry, "and is young Mr. Potter."  
  
Duncan's eyes went wide with surprise that Methos said it straight out, but Harry and everyone else simply looked confused.  
  
"A what?" Harry asked.  
  
"Simply put, Harry, it means you've died."  
  
"That's impossible. I mean, I haven't! I think I would have known if I'd died!"  
  
"Well, have you been in anything resembling a coma recently?"  
  
Harry bit his lip and slowly nodding, remembering being told that he'd been knocked cold for several hours the last time he'd met up with Voldemort, after a still unknown Dark Curse had been flung at him. Ron had later told him that they'd thought him dead until he'd opened his eyes again. Harry looked frantically at the headmaster for an answer, one that he didn't have.  
  
Methos set his goblet down. "Immortals are a special kind of humans, much like vampires or giants or even veela. We are always adopted-no one knows where exactly we come from, and no one knows if you have the potential to become an Immortal except for another Immortal."  
  
"But, I know who my parents were! Everyone does: James and Lily. They have pictures with me! And everyone says that I look just like my father! How could I look like him if I wasn't his son?" Harry wanted to hear the answer, but didn't. A part of him knew that it didn't matter-his mother had sacrificed herself to save him, but if he were adopted, it would cast the faintest shadow on his idolized parents.  
  
Methos shrugged, "I wouldn't know how you came to your parents, except that it is impossible for you to have been born to them. Our very nature prevents it. As for why you look like James, I'm not so sure. When they adopted you, they could have bound you to them by blood. There are certain charms that when done on a newborn imprint the characteristics of the bloodline onto the child, one of the results being a similarity in appearance." Methos frowned. "If he did though, that's rather surprising. That kind of magic is powerful stuff, not commonly known, let alone used. Back in my day it was used by pureblood families when someone had a bastard child and needed the child to look like proper parent." Methos didn't bother to waste more time pondering what he considered to be something of little consequence, and pressed forward. "When you die, there is no guarantee that you will come back, unless your death is violent. The first time you are reborn can take any amount of time from minutes to hours, depending on the person.  
  
"Immortals are inherently magical-that is why Duncan, who is otherwise a Muggle, can see Hogsmeade and Hogwarts-but they aren't necessarily wizards. Most Immortals will never be as powerful as a Squib. If, however, you live long enough, and take enough heads it's possible that you will eventually be able to manipulate magic. Of course, there are people like me: born both Wizard and Immortal."  
  
"Er.take enough heads?" Harry asked hesitantly.  
  
"There is only one way for an Immortal to die-and that is through decapitation. When one of us is killed, the inherent energy stored within us is transferred to the victor, along with all their memories and power they've acquired, in an event called the Quickening. Rather like getting hit by blue lightening, except you don't get burned. Oh yes, and if you get injured you'll heal rather rapidly." To demonstrate the point, he picked up his knife, and casually sliced his hand. By the time a few drops had fallen to the table, the wound was no more, silencing the table.  
  
Dumbledore finally broke the silence. "How is it that we've never heard of your kind before?"  
  
Methos leaned forward. "For one thing, most Immortals have no knowledge of Wizards at all. Secondly, the ones that do are smart enough to not say anything. After all, who is to stop an ambitious wizard from trying to cultivate our power for himself? I've never heard of a wizard stealing a Quickening, but that wouldn't stop some from trying. It's all about self-preservation. Live to fight another day. That's something I've tried to instill into my Slytherins. How successful I was remains to be seen."  
  
"So you do claim to be Salazar Slytherin, then?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Methos raised his eyebrow, sounding insulted by the question. "Why would I go to the trouble of pretending to be someone thought to be 900 years dead if I weren't who I said I was? Talking portraits don't lie." He amended, "Well, at least not about the identity of a person."  
  
Dryly, Duncan added, "Adam doesn't do any more then he absolutely to."  
  
Methos turned to Duncan. "I resent that remark, thank you. I've lived long enough to have the right to not do much of anything."  
  
Snape cleared his throat. "And how long has that been, my lord?"  
  
"Severus. Don't call me that. And let's just say that I've been around longer then Ollivander's has."  
  
The four wizards looked sufficiently impressed; even with the sorcerer's stone to aid him, Nicholas Flammel had only lived a few centuries  
  
"So you would be willing to prove the veracity of your claim by taking Veritaserum, then?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Methos rolled his eyes. "Look, I already told you. I wouldn't pretend to be someone I'm not. As surely as Duncan is an overly noble Boy Scout, I'm Salazar Slytherin, and I refuse to take a truth serum. It's not safe, for you, but mostly for me. If you're really that obsessive about the whole thing, then have a House Elf go and retrieve the portrait from Severus' office and we'll see this thing once and for all."  
  
Dumbledore looked at McGonagall who was listening to something Snape was whispering. She turned to the Headmaster. "I have to agree with Severus, Albus. We don't want to push this matter if we don't have to. Let Dobby get the painting, and then drop it."  
  
Dumbledore seemed reluctant, but he clapped his hands to summon Dobby. Given his orders, the squat house elf returned moments later, the precious cargo in his hand.  
  
Methos in the portrait immediately greeted his living form. "Hey! It's been a while since I've seen you. Come for a visit?"  
  
"Something like that." He turned to Dumbledore. "Are you convinced yet? And hey, look at my nose. You really can't miss that."  
  
McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged a glance and Snape looked rather gratified about the whole affair.  
  
Harry wasn't really paying much attention, still trying to digest everything Methos had said, pushing a bit of left over spaghetti here and there, twirling it with his fork until the entire plate was an even shade of red-orange. Duncan was looking at him with concern. He turned to Methos. "Is Harry safe here?"  
  
Immediate replies came from both Dumbledore and McGonagall about how this was the safest place for Harry to be.  
  
"It's holy ground, remember Duncan? I made sure of it when we first built the castle."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Duncan acknowledged, remember that Methos had told him that not that long ago while still in Hogsmeade. He chided himself for not remembering, but then relaxed given how much more information he'd had to process in the past few hours.  
  
Methos looked quite pleased with himself. "Do you really think I would have set up a permanent home if it wasn't going to be safe?"  
  
"Holy ground?" Harry queried. "What's that? I mean I know what it is, but what is it for?"  
  
"It's exactly what the name implies. Sanctuary," Duncan offered. "There can be no duels on holy ground. It is the one rule of combat amongst us that isn't broken. We all recognize the need to have a place to withdraw from the Game."  
  
"The Game?"  
  
"The rules that Immortals play by. In theory, at the Gathering there will be the final battles. The last Immortal alive will win the Prize, something so powerful that it would enable them to rule the world. Whether there can ever be one last Immortal remains to be seen." Methos supplied. He's expression softened to something nearer a smile. "Don't worry yourself with the details of the Game right now. You've enough to process for one evening."  
  
McGonagall agreed. "Why don't you retire for the evening, Mr. Potter? I'm sure your housemates will wonder where you've been this evening."  
  
Harry nodded slowly, and started to walk out of the room, still visibly troubled by the revelations of the evening. "Good night, then."  
  
"Mr. Potter, before you go." Methos waited until Harry faced him once again. "We all have secrets that need to be kept. Do not tell anyone that I am Slytherin."  
  
"Yes, sir. I understand."  
  
Harry left, and Dumbledore dismissed Dobby to return the portrait to Snape's office, satisfied at least for the moment, that Methos was who he claimed to be.  
  
"Well, Mr. Pierson.there is still much that I would discuss with you, but I do think that young Harry isn't the only one who has something to think about." Dumbledore bowed slightly. "I'll see you in the morning, at your convenience." He left, followed by McGonagall moments after she made her excuses.  
  
"My Lord.I mean, Methos.Adam, Mr. MacLeod, would you care to retire to my room for some wine? I know you are wondering where I know you from, and I'm sure your friend has as many questions about the Wizarding world as we have questions about you."  
  
Methos looked at Duncan, who nodded. "That would be nice, thank you."  
  
"Follow me, then."  
  
Snape led the two men down the labyrinthine corridors that lead to the Slytherin dungeons. Methos relaxed as he remembered the old passages. They passed a few of the Slytherins who had stayed over the holidays. If they thought it odd that their teacher walked with strangers in Muggle clothing, they decided to wait to express those opinions until well after Snape could no longer hear them.  
  
* * *  
  
Methos looked over Snape's quarters with some satisfaction, these had been his quarters nearly millennia ago, and it was nice to see that they were not only still in use, but well maintained. As Duncan settled himself and Snape saw to the wine, Methos walked over to the southern wall, which was conspicuously bare of any decoration.  
  
"I would be careful over there. That wall has always seemed rather temperamental when it comes to decoration," Snape said.  
  
Methos smirked. "Of course it would." He quickly touched a series of seemingly random stones, ultimately revealing a door. "This used to be a pathway down to the Chamber of Secrets. When my basilisk was small he would come up this way on occasion. So many rats died right around here that the wall seemed to get a little skittish."  
  
"That's.that's the entrance? What about the faucet in the bathroom?" Snape asked, dumbfounded. So many years spent searching for the entrance and it was under the noses of the Heads of Slytherin House the entire time? It was almost inconceivable.  
  
"Oh that? That's just the long way around. It was put in once the basilisk needed bigger meals then a few rats. The Parseltongue was just to ensure that it kept those that didn't belong out."  
  
Duncan had a feeling he'd be lost most of the rest of the night and Snape didn't look much better. "You do know what your basilisk was doing, don't you?" Snape asked, sounding curious.  
  
Methos sighed. "I'd heard about that. I was rather disappointed. I never meant him to kill Muggle-borns. I found them to be annoying, yes, but worthy of death? Not at all. I suppose after such a long time away from his master, he'd be happy to see anyone. I mean, he's a giant snake, of course he'll do what he's told."  
  
"Mudblood? Methos, would you please tell me all this jargon that you're spouting?"  
  
Methos hissed softly and the Chamber entrance shut itself. At Snape's questioning look, he replied, "It's quicker.we can talk more about that later. I'm sure that Harry has some questions about it."  
  
Snape found himself nodding. "Dumbledore as well." Snape paused. "Might I ask, what would you really rather have me call you, my lord? Methos or Adam?"  
  
Methos made no comment on that. Instead, he set up his feet on the small table in front of the couch. "To answer your question, first, Severus, if no one else aside from Duncan or Harry is around, calling me Methos is fine. I prefer to use 'Adam Pierson' in public because it's safer that way. Much as Slytherin is a legend of sorts, Methos is even more of one. It would be bad enough if people discovered that I am Slytherin. If word got out that Methos was here.you'd have some rather dangerous Immortals come out of the woodwork, all seeking to take my head, both Muggle and magical." That settled, he lazily looked over at Snape, who'd settled into a black leather armchair. "Perhaps Severus can be so kind as to explain what you need to know about the Wizarding world."  
  
Snape assumed that if Methos ever found good cause to tell him why "Methos" was such a legend, that he would do so when he was ready and didn't press the issue. "As you wish, Methos." He nodded his head slightly, looking at Duncan, before continuing. "A Mudblood is a person with so called 'dirty blood,' a person who's born of two non-magical parents. Muggle-born is the more polite term. A 'halfblood' is someone born of one magical, one Muggle parent. A 'Squib' is a non-magical person born to any family where both parents are magical, and a pureblood is someone who descends from a long line of full wizards on both sides with no Muggle blood in the heritage. Or at least, none that anyone can prove of. 'Muggles' are non-magical people. Harry Potter would be considered halfblooded because although his adoptive mother was a witch, she herself was Muggle-born. Slytherin House by tradition contains a greater percentage of purebloods then the other houses, although it is not intentional. If you are still here when the session resumes, you'll meet many heirs to several powerful Wizarding families. Just realize that lineage doesn't affect power-some are quite powerful in their own right-no matter that many purebloods would have you believe otherwise."  
  
Methos nodded. "Parseltongue is the ability to speak to snakes and to have them understand you. I was rather known for that ability. It's rather rare, at least today. When I was first learning magic I knew quite a few who could do that."  
  
"So rare, in fact, when does come across it, people are likely to brand you an Heir of Slytherin." Snape added sourly.  
  
"Which is impossible, Immortals can't have any children," Duncan replied.  
  
"Ah, but we're talking magical inheritance, something completely different. I'm still not sure how it works, to be honest." Methos leaned forward a little, looking towards Duncan.  
  
"If it's any comfort, we're not any more sure of it today. All we know is that this generation there have been two Heirs presumptive."  
  
"Are there now?" Methos looked unconcerned.  
  
"Yes. One has set your basilisk loose on Muggle-borns twice, once when he was a student here, and again fifty years later. The other killed your basilisk after the most recent string of attacks."  
  
"Voldemort and Harry Potter then?"  
  
Snape nodded slightly.  
  
"One who would rather die than be associated with me, and the other who would rather die than not be associated with me. Ironic, isn't it?" Methos started to mull something over after this statement, so Duncan decided to seize his chance.  
  
"Who is this Voldemort person everyone keeps mentioning?" Duncan turned to Snape "And earlier, you said something to Methos that he recognized, proving that you knew him. What was that you were talking about?"  
  
"Why don't you answer this one, Severus, you might be able to explain him better then I could."  
  
Snape smiled wryly. "Perhaps you're right, Methos." He took a sip of his wine and began, "Voldemort-more commonly named 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named'-is a Dark Lord.a master of the Darkest magics that the Wizarding world knows. " Snape paused, trying to find a simple explanation for a man that needed no explanation to Wizards. "He is a man that wants to take over the world. He believes that purity of the blood is more important than anything else, even though he himself is only a halfblood. Because of his extraordinary power, and the gift of Parseltongue, Voldemort is recognized as Slytherin's Heir. People are afraid of him, Mr. MacLeod, and rightfully so. The man is powerful, and his sanity questionable. He also seems to be impossible to kill, and not for a lack of trying. He found the most remarkable methods to bring himself back, but the price for such Dark Arts means he barely looks human anymore. We can only hope that he is brought down for good sooner, rather then later. Hopefully, with a little luck, some skill, and Mr. Potter, we will get him before too many more die."  
  
Snape leaned back in his own chair, idly rubbing the Dark Mark that lay hidden beneath his robes. He still wasn't enamored of the thought of sending Harry to fight Voldemort, since the boy was not even half-trained, but between being outvoted, and desperately seeking a way to be free of the Mark forever, he kept his opinion to himself and did what he could to make sure Harry lived long enough to finally kill Voldemort.  
  
"Severus?" Methos gently prodded.  
  
Snape hadn't realized that he was drifting off in thought. Perhaps the wine was hitting him faster then normal this night. "Right. Forgive my inattention. You were wondering how Methos-how Slytherin recognized that I knew who he was, yes?"  
  
Duncan nodded.  
  
"You see Duncan, each House has its own motto.its own guiding principles. Your friend Slytherin...Methos, favored the traits of slyness, cunning and ambition. Since that day, all those who have taken over as the Head of Slytherin House try to instill those attributes in their students. Tell me, sir, do you remember the day a student mysteriously appeared in your Dark Arts class?"  
  
Methos took a longer look at Snape, some measure of recollection in his eyes, but not enough to fully recall Snape's involvement in his past.  
  
"It was about two weeks into my first year as a student at Hogwarts. In addition to my rather extensive collection of curses, I had already begun to experiment with new potions. On this day, I had been in charms and had the great misfortune of being paired with our year's near-Squib. We'd been practicing some kind of simple charm-a jelly legs hex, I think? I can't quite recall, because his miscast spell reacted with a new potion whose effects I was still testing out.the next thing I knew I was laying on the stone floor, only almost one thousand years prior..  
  
* * * Approximately 993 CE, Hogwarts  
  
A boot nudged his side, and Severus moaned. He was going to kill that Ravenclaw freak. Well, after he went and saw the Head of Slytherin House to get permission.  
  
"Boy." The boot nudged him again. "Are you with us?"  
  
Severus grabbed his head, struggling with not only the aftereffects of the spell, but with his rusty Latin. Latin? He wondered what that was about, but managed to reply, "Yes, Professor Flitwick."  
  
"Flitwick? Who is that?" The man motioned to two other students who helped Severus sit up straight. The man noticed the semi-familiar crest on his robes. "You are a student at Hogwarts?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Severus looked at the teacher. The man was intimidating and radiated power.  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
"Severus Snape, sir."  
  
"And what is the date?"  
  
"September 7, 1972, sir."  
  
The teacher gave Severus a funny look. "I see. I think we need to talk. Everyone else, I want you to practice what we've done in class today. I will be testing you tomorrow."  
  
Severus' eyes warily followed the teacher as he was quietly studied.  
  
"Do you know who I am, boy?"  
  
Severus tilted his head, the portrait coming into sharp focus in his head. "You are Salazar Slytherin, one of the four Founders." Snape's eyes widened as he realized what had happened. "Merlin, I must have come back in time almost a thousand years."  
  
Slytherin looked intrigued. "What happened? What brought you here?" Slytherin leaned back on his desk. The posture was more casual then Severus would have expected, yet it did nothing to diminish the sense of power that Slytherin gave off.  
  
Severus struggled for the words. His father had gotten him a Latin tutor when he was seven, but conversational Latin hadn't been focused upon. "It was a Charms accident. A Squib's spell." he scrambled for the right word, "mixed with a potion I had been working on."  
  
"Your Latin needs work. Can you read it?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes, sir. Better then I can speak it."  
  
"Well, then, I'm sure it'll improve while you stay with us as we try to figure out how to get you back to your own time. You will be taking lessons and doing a portion of the chores while you stay. I refuse to let anyone stay in the castle without working for it."  
  
Severus had to stop himself from repeating "Chores?" aloud like an idiot. He knew what they were; having to do them was another thing entirely. Apparently though, his expression spoke loud enough.  
  
"Yes, chores. So many of the purebloods are so spoiled that it's a good way of teaching humility. You will survive. Just like they do. Tell me, Severus, what House were you in?"  
  
"Slytherin, sir."  
  
"Well enough. I'll keep you there unless you show that you don't belong. Do try your best to behave. There are no older students to keep you in line, as I'm sure there were in your time."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"This is the first season the school's been open, of course. We've been in session about for a little over a moon now. You'll need to get notes from one of your classmates. You can conjure parchment and quills?" Seeing Severus' nod he continued, "You will attend classes and chores with your classmates during the day, and after supper you will join me in here while we figure out what happened earlier today so we can send you back as soon as possible. Although Latin is in the curriculum; if you find yourself having undue difficulties let me know and I'll do my best to assist you with it."  
  
"I'll find you a spare set of robes to wear and you may keep the crest that is on your robe. It may not be from now, but you'd have to be an idiot to not figure out whose house it represented. After you leave here, I'll have someone show you to your dorms before the next lessons.  
  
"While you are here it is imperative that you do not talk about what the future is like, no matter how hard someone begs of it. Though nothing may happen, there is an equally likely chance that you'll influence the future, and naturally we wish to avoid that if possible. Understand?"  
  
The speed of Slytherin's language and how quickly his situation had been dealt meant there were a few seconds before everything had sunk in and Severus was able to nod his head in agreement.  
  
"Come along."  
  
Severus quickly followed Slytherin, out of the room. The other man immediately latched onto a kid who was quickly moving in the opposite direction.  
  
"Ah, Julian Tiber. Since you've been foolish enough to let me catch you at eavesdropping, you will first show your housemate to his room, and the schedule of classes and chores. After dinner you will report to Mistress Cassia and attend to the dishes without magic. Am I clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
It wasn't until Slytherin was out of sight that Julian made a face. "I still can't believe he makes us do chores like Mudbloods. That's why we have house elves! Oh, and I'm Julian. Nice to meet you."  
  
"Severus. Is Professor Slytherin that bad?"  
  
Julian shook his head. "No, actually, he's pretty good. He's just strict. He thinks we're quote 'a bunch of spoiled purebloods who wouldn't know a hard day's work if it bit us on the ass.' Or at least that's what I overheard him telling Professor Gryffindor." He frowned. "Of course, given the fact that he seems to know when I'm eavesdropping, maybe he said that for me to hear. He's good like that. Not much escapes his notice. School hasn't even been in for much more then a moon and some people have been serving detention almost all that time!"  
  
"I'll have to be careful then."  
  
The other boy nodded. "Might not be a bad idea. Slytherin doesn't mind it so much if you bend the rules, he just doesn't want you to get caught."  
  
Severus could appreciate that. Lucius had told him that much about their own Head of House.  
  
They stopped in front of the portrait that covered the entrance to the dungeon. It wasn't anyone that Severus recognized.  
  
"Parseltongue." The portrait bowed and swung out revealing a Common Room that hadn't really changed much in the past thousand years; Severus figured that they must have had preservation spells on the room. Only the portraits seemed to change.  
  
"This way. Although we're the only class here this year, Slytherin won't let us have our own rooms. Some have tried sneaking off, but he's already caught on to it." He led Severus to the same room he had been staying in before the accident. The only difference was that there was one less bed. Rather nice, actually. Sitting on the chair near his bed was an extra robe and a current Slytherin scarf.  
  
Julian pointed to a piece of parchment on the wall. "That's our schedule, both for classes and chores. It's self-updating so just look at it every morning and it'll tell you where you need to go. I'll have one of the others show you around after Transfiguration."  
  
"I suppose that could come in handy. I have enough trouble getting around Hogwarts in my own time."  
  
Julian smiled. "And just tell me if I'm talking too fast. I know that Latin isn't your native tongue."  
  
"Yet I wouldn't recognize your form of English either if you tried it."  
  
"You should try teaching me yours. I bet we could use it to outwit Slytherin, make some kind of plan to sneak out or something."  
  
Severus' eyes lit up. A challenge. "Done. Shouldn't we get going?" He eyed a clock in the corner that said "Almost late."  
  
Julian yelped. "You're right. C'mon. If we hurry we'll make it." 


	3. For Tomorrow We Die

2. For Tomorrow We Die  
  
December 27, 1997 CE, Hogwarts  
  
"And we did just make it, although we did get a verbal warning from Ravenclaw."  
  
Methos smirked, "Now that you've mentioned it, I do remember Julian. It always seemed that he fancied himself a bit of a spy. He was never very good at it though. He had a rather heavy gait. Always gave himself away."  
  
A clock behind Severus began to bark, "Midnight. Time for bed!"  
  
Duncan jumped. "What the hell is that?" He looked at the clock, not quite ready to accept that the clock suddenly formed lips and could yell.  
  
"It's a clock, of course." Methos stated matter-of-factly.  
  
"Do they all talk?" Duncan hadn't taken his eyes off it yet.  
  
"Not all of them," replied Snape, "but they tend to be more useful then the ones that don't."  
  
"The things you really ought to be afraid of are the talking mirrors. Those things can be vicious."  
  
"Tell me about it," muttered Snape. He cleared his throat. "I'm afraid, gentlemen, that I have to retire for the night. With term starting again in less then a week, tomorrow morning will be filled with those oh-so- enjoyable things known as meetings."  
  
Methos made a face. "Please, don't remind me. I pity you, I really do."  
  
Snape half bowed, and said, "Thank you. I'll show you to your rooms then?"  
  
Duncan stood first, Methos a few seconds later. "Sounds great."  
  
Snape lead them down the hallway and, past the entrance to the Slytherin dorm. He stopped at two doors. "Both rooms are identical." He turned towards the portraits of the sleepy Slytherins that protected the doors. "Gentlemen, these are our guests. Please don't give them a hard time when they want to get into their rooms."  
  
The portraits eyed the two men wearily, until the one in Methos' portrait eyes widened and ran to the other portrait, whispering into the other's ear. "We'll behave, Severus."  
  
Snape nodded. "Good, see that you do, or I'll have Peeves haunt your portraits. Gentlemen, if you are in need of anything else, simply pull on the green rope next to the fireplace, and a house elf will appear immediately."  
  
"Thank you," both Immortals offered.  
  
Snape bowed slightly and left them outside of Duncan's room. Methos opened the door to the room. It was lavishly decorated in green and silver. An enchanted fire burned softly in the large fireplace and two huge chairs sat in front of it. A mahogany desk rested on the same wall as the door with a queen-sized bed dominating the remaining empty wall. Duncan was suitably impressed. "This is nice. Remind me Methos, we should get our stuff sent over from the hotel tomorrow."  
  
"So confident we'll be here another night?"  
  
Duncan shrugged, "Harry's going to need a mentor. It'll take us at least another day to help him get everything sorted out."  
  
"Too true. I'll take care of it tomorrow. Good night, Duncan."  
  
"Good night, Methos."  
  
* * * The next morning, Methos had planned on taking breakfast in his chambers with Duncan, but when he rang the bell, a rather excitable creature named Dobby told them that they were expected in the great hall.  
  
"All right then." He looked at Duncan and nodded. "Lead the way."  
  
The Great Hall was rather quiet; although the press to get holiday assignments done was on, most of the students that remained were still choosing to sleep in. The staff, however, was in presence in full force, most of the trying to not be caught staring at their guests. Methos found it easy to ignore, Duncan not so much as they sat down at the table next to Snape.  
  
"Stop fretting, Duncan. They'll get over it in a few days."  
  
"Adam." Duncan lowered his voice "I swear to you that one with the black hair," he pointed to Madame Pince, "is looking at me like she wants to jump me."  
  
"And you're complaining about this? Mr. 'I can get a woman naked in three seconds flat'?"  
  
Duncan gave Methos a look. "You know that I'm not that crass."  
  
Methos raised his hand at Snape's bemused look. "And how many times have I walked in on you and Amanda? Or was it Susan? Lilah?" Methos frowned. "So many people to keep track of."  
  
Duncan rolled his eyes, "I'm not that bad, honestly."  
  
Methos sniffed. "It's the principle of the thing. I mean, the next thing I know, you'll go sleeping around the male half of the population. Old age will do that to a person."  
  
Duncan was about to deliver a witty reply about age, when Snape cleared his throat. "So, gentlemen, what was your plan for the morning?"  
  
"We were going to get our things from the Inn we were staying at and talk to Mr. Potter." Methos nodded in the direction of Harry, who was currently deeply engrossed in conversation with another student.  
  
"We-" Snape indicated the staff surrounding him, "will be in meetings through lunch time; should you find yourself in need of something to do, feel free to use the library."  
  
"Would there be a good place for me to practice?" Duncan broke in.  
  
"Practice what?" Professor Vector politely asked from Duncan's other side.  
  
"My sword work.it helps me focus for the day. I thought I might work on it while Adam gathered our things."  
  
"Sword work? How interesting." From the look on Vector's face, it seemed more likely she wanted to watch him play with his "sword" instead of his katana.  
  
Snape barely contained his snicker. "You may use the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom; there should be plenty of space in there. I can show you after breakfast. It's on the way to the staff room."  
  
"That would be great, thanks."  
  
Breakfast seemed to be winding down, and students had begun to file out of the Great Hall. Methos stood. "I'd better get going. We're a good distance from our hotel and I've got to return the horses. I plan on Apparating back, if I could get some help in moving the luggage back from the hotel that would be most appreciated."  
  
"That won't be a problem. I'll inform the house elves to keep an eye out for you, Mr. Pierson," Snape replied.  
  
Methos nodded. "I'll see you when I get back. Do try to stay out of trouble, Duncan."  
  
Duncan snickered. "I don't think that will be a problem. After all, how much trouble can doing a few forms cause?"  
  
* * * The answer turned out to be quite a lot, mostly in the form of drooling girls-and a few curious boys- that had heard that something was going on in the Defense room. Finding a half-naked man moving gracefully with a sword was not what they'd expected to find.  
  
The buzz of another Immortal-Harry- finally broke his concentration enough to make Duncan stop. The students immediately started cheering and clapping, making Duncan color slightly. A few moments later, people started to file out of the room.  
  
"Harry, stay a moment, would you?"  
  
Harry turned towards one of his classmates "Go on, Seamus. I'll be fine." He had a hunch that Seamus wouldn't need to hear this discussion.  
  
The Irish boy gave the stranger a quizzical look, but left Harry alone. Harry entered further into the room, shutting the door behind him, casting a quick to prevent eavesdropping just in case.  
  
Duncan wiped at his forehead with his towel, then sat down on top of the desk. "Sword practice. Something you get to look forward to in the years ahead."  
  
"Are you sure? I mean I don't really have to.er, cut off people's heads, do I?"  
  
"Well, no. You don't have to fight, but I would only recommend that route if you have a death wish. Once people know you're an Immortal.they'll go for your head. If you don't fight, you might as well hand it to them."  
  
"Oh. Wait, you didn't answer my question!"  
  
Duncan sighed, and looked Harry in the eyes. "No. You don't have to take their head, but if you let them go, they'll come back after you again and again and again until they succeed in taking yours. As distasteful as killing someone is, it's the only way. It's our way."  
  
"Our way? You make it sound like there's a society or something."  
  
"There is in a way, I suppose. We have the Rules that keep us civilized. Immortals often find some of their best friends with other Immortals, if only because no one will ever quite understand you, or the life you live, quite as well as they do." Duncan smiled. "Most of my friends are Immortal. Sometimes it feels safer that way."  
  
"Safer? How? I mean, couldn't you lose them the next day?"  
  
Duncan nodded. "There is that real threat, but you accept it. With mortals, well it's the same thing. The threat of death is still there. Only. more. You can lose them to age, to illness.to them just not being able to accept you for who you are."  
  
"Kind of like magic, then?"  
  
Duncan turned away. "I suppose you're right. It would be like magic."  
  
Harry smiled sadly. "And here I thought that one day I could be normal."  
  
Both men turned as Methos entered the room. "Normal is a relative term. If you meant that you just want to live at some point when you are just 'Harry' and not 'The Boy Who Lived Again and Again' it's still possible, you just might have to live a few hundred years for it."  
  
Harry muttered, "Is that all?"  
  
Methos shut the door to the classroom, and then shot a worried glance at Duncan, who shrugged. Harry looked up at Methos. "So, what happens now?"  
  
Methos smiled in encouragement. "Now we get you a tutor-you must learn how to fight, and you need to learn a bit more magic. I've got some spells that haven't seen the light of day in several hundred years that can help your fight against Voldemort significantly." Methos draped himself backward over a chair. "Tell me Harry, have you ever used a sword?"  
  
"Once or twice. I killed a basilisk with Godric Gryffindor's sword."  
  
Methos raised an eyebrow. "You killed my basilisk with that thing?" He sighed. "I suppose it'll do until we can get you a real sword. That thing won't serve you in the long run, it was meant more for decoration then for actual use."  
  
"YOUR basilisk?" Harry asked incredulously. Moments later, he said rather sheepishly, "Oh. I suppose it would be, wouldn't it?"  
  
"It was, but don't worry about it. I'm still impressed you managed to kill that with such a pathetic sword." He eyed Harry. "There maybe hope for you yet; time will tell, I suppose. We'll also have to keep the council off your back. We don't need any of their Watchers snooping about."  
  
"Why is Gryffindor's sword so pathetic? I mean it came out of the hat when I needed it, and I was able to kill the Basilisk with it. Dumbledore said that it proved that I was a true Gryffindor."  
  
Methos rolled his eyes. "Listen, kid, the sword would have come out of that hat for anyone who needed it, no matter what Dumbledore said. Gryffindor was an addlebrained idiot who misplaced that gaudy trinket. He never used that thing; some merchant was trying to get him to buy some equipment for Hogwarts. Whoever the guy was, he was proud of his craft, so the blade was functional, and enchanted to prove his talents. If you look close enough, you can tell that the stones aren't real, they were just transfigured and rather shoddily at that. The color is lacking the necessary depth for the real stone." He paused, "Come to think of it, I'm not even sure how anyone figured out how that got put in there." Methos shrugged. "One of the other headmasters must have stumbled on it one day and thought it had special meaning. Who knows?"  
  
Harry looked rather shell shocked at that revelation; he'd liked the thought that the sword proved him a true Gryffindor. While he wondered if this story invalidated the newest claims that Harry was Gryffindor's Heir, Duncan had started to answer his next question.  
  
"A Watcher is someone who follows you around, writes down who you sleep with, who you fight, who you kill and if you're unlucky, who ultimately killed you," Duncan explained.  
  
"Almost every known Immortal has one. The difference is most Immortals don't know that they exist."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Naturally, if everyone knew, then the system wouldn't work because they'd spend all their time trying to ditch their Watcher." Methos coughed. "Duncan."  
  
Duncan scowled. "Ha. Ha. The only reason he doesn't have to ditch one is that he is his own Watcher."  
  
"How'd you manage that?" asked Harry who was genuinely curious as to why not.  
  
"I founded the Watchers. I am a Watcher. My job is to well, research me, Methos. So long as I stay a myth, no one is the wiser and I get away Watcher free."  
  
Harry's eyes widened slightly. "You created the Watchers so you can spy on all the other Immortals? How very Slytherin of you." He paused. "Well. I suppose it would be, seeing as you are him." He frowned. "How very confusing."  
  
Methos laughed. "I suppose that it would be."  
  
"You're a myth? Why is that?"  
  
Methos strained to look out the window, as if there was a sundial hovering near by. Briskly, he said, "What's say we go grab some lunch. Maybe this afternoon you could show me some of your skills on the Quidditch pitch. I heard you're quite the talent."  
  
Harry frowned at the brush off, but couldn't quite hide his smile at the chance to show off his skills. "I'd love to. Do you play?"  
  
Methos laughed. "Are you kidding? Broomsticks and me.don't mix very well. I seem to have a problem staying on them."  
  
"When was the last time you flew?"  
  
Methos thought about it for a few moments. "Eight hundred years? Give or take a century."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped on the floor and looked at Duncan. "Is he serious?"  
  
Duncan shrugged as he pulled his shirt back on. "Probably."  
  
"That's it, if you two are staying around to train me, you've ought to learn to fly. It only seems fair that I should be able to best you two in something." He gave them a look saying this was a non-negotiable part of the deal.  
  
"Fly? I can't even do magic!" Duncan protested.  
  
"MacLeod, if you can see Hogwarts, you've got enough magic in you to fly a broom." Methos said in a deadpan voice. "Besides, think of the laughs you'll have when I fall off."  
  
"It won't be that bad, modern brooms are a lot more manageable then they were back then."  
  
Methos was about to respond, but there was a knock on the door.  
  
"Come in." Harry called out.  
  
Snape entered the room. "Adam.Duncan, Mr. Potter. It's lunch. Would you care to join us in the Great Hall?"  
  
"Love to!" Methos replied, hoping that he could get Harry to forget about teaching him to fly. "In fact, we were just heading there ourselves."  
  
"Are we still on for Quidditch afterwards then?" Harry queried as they headed towards the Great Hall.  
  
Methos nodded. "Sure. I still do want to see you fly, and besides, it'll give me more time to think of an excuse not to."  
  
Harry's snickering echoed down the hallway.  
  
* * * Lunch passed by quickly, and soon Harry had been sent back to Gryffindor Tower to change into his robes. Dumbledore leaned over to where Duncan and Methos were still conversing quietly.  
  
"Might I escort you gentlemen to the Quidditch pitch?"  
  
Sensing that there was obviously something else that the Headmaster wanted to discuss, the two Immortals nodded. "That would be great," Duncan replied.  
  
The three men ambled out towards the Pitch. After a few minutes of Dumbledore pointing out some changes that had been made since Methos had been at the school, Dumbledore finally addressed the issue at hand.  
  
"I was wondering if you were intending to stay to help Mr. Potter."  
  
Methos looked at Duncan. "I can't speak for Duncan, but I was planning to. I can't leave Harry here without some kind of mentoring. Being an Immortal is hard and dangerous enough.being an Immortal with the kind of past and legend that surrounds Harry." Methos shook his head. "I know what it's like to be hunted simply for who you are. It's not pretty, and the only people I'd wish it upon have already lost their head, if not at my hand, then Duncan's. If nothing else, when I do leave, Harry'll be Slytherin enough to take care of himself."  
  
Harry frowned, not quite sure what to make of Methos' comment about his ability to survive.  
  
Duncan shrugged. "I'm willing to stay. It's not like there is anywhere I have to be. Besides.the thought of being on holy ground-especially holy ground where I can't be found-is rather appealing. I haven't really gotten away from the Game for a few years. The change will be nice."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "We'll be happy to have you, but we'll need to come up with a reason for your stay."  
  
Methos shrugged. "Just make up some excuse about preparing Harry for the fight against Voldemort. Given the boy's history with that freak that should suffice."  
  
The elderly wizard looked a little off put at Methos calling Voldemort a freak, but didn't say anything. "All right then, but something more specific perhaps?"  
  
"Tell them the truth, that I'm teaching Harry hand-to-hand combat just in case something happens where he can't use magic. If you'd like, I could teach others if they were interested. I've run group classes at my dojo before, I can handle it."  
  
"Dojo?" asked Dumbledore.  
  
"A studio for studying martial arts-hand to hand fighting, sword play and the like," supplied Methos.  
  
"Ah. Well, that sounds good. We'll put up an announcement for the students. I'm sure some will appreciate this unique opportunity. What about you, Mr. Pierson?"  
  
"Say I'm doing research for the fight against Voldemort."  
  
Duncan rolled his eyes. "You'll still be doing 'research' for the next millennia to come."  
  
Methos smiled gamely. "Hey, it's easy, and I get paid for doing nothing. Can't go wrong with that."  
  
Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Very well, what might you be researching?"  
  
He shrugged. "Make something up. It doesn't really matter, does it?"  
  
Dumbledore pursed his lips. "I suppose not. But I'll think of something, to be sure. Now, as you may or may not be aware, school will start up on the fifth, a week from today. I'm sure that you'll need to get your affairs in order, so I might I suggest that you leave tonight? I can lend you a carriage to Hogsmeade, where you can catch the Knight Bus back to London. You can then return to the school on the fourth on the Hogwarts Express with the students."  
  
"That seems reasonable, I suppose."  
  
"It'll have to suffice." Duncan agreed.  
  
"Excellent! You may move rooms if you'd like for something bigger."  
  
"I'm fine, thank you." Duncan replied.  
  
"As am I."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "As you wish. I'll have the carriage ready for you after dinner. Have a good afternoon, gentlemen, and good day." Dumbledore bowed a little and headed back to the castle.  
  
Once the older wizard was out of earshot and the journey resumed to the Quidditch pitch, Methos turned to Duncan. "Sheesh. You'd think that after a thousand years a man would know what needs to be done before going away for an extended period."  
  
"I would have thought you'd learned more then 4900 years ago."  
  
"Well, yeah. But he doesn't know that."  
  
"True."  
  
"I was going to get my stuff together. I don't really need a whole week. I think he just wants us out of his hair. He's probably upset that the faculty is ignoring him for us."  
  
"Methos!"  
  
"What? He probably is! Can you imagine how they'd act if they found out who I used to be?"  
  
"Ha! You might even become Headmaster."  
  
Methos shuddered. "No, thank you. Teaching was bad enough."  
  
"Was it really that bad?"  
  
"I have plenty of stories to share." he paused as he felt Harry's buzz. "But I'll tell them to you later. Our young friend is already in the air." He pointed up and sure enough, Harry was flying smoothly through the air, making tight turns, apparently chasing after something.  
  
Duncan stared for a few minutes, awed by the sight. "Wow. Impressive."  
  
Methos laughed. "That's nothing. Wait until you see him play Quidditch. I might have left the Wizarding world proper before the game was created but I have snuck back now and then to see a game. It's amazing and quite dangerous. The Muggles would love it."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"It's flying quickly through the air while trying to avoid getting bashed up as you try and score. What more could you want?"  
  
They watched for several more minutes before suddenly Harry went into a deep dive. He reached and reached and they watched as his hands clamped shut around the Snitch. Methos and Duncan clapped as he landed.  
  
"Nice job, Harry!"  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
"Call me, Methos, Harry. Just think of me as an older cousin or something."  
  
Harry winced. "I'll try, Methos. But can you be a non-family member? I'm not exactly fond of them."  
  
"You're not?"  
  
"No, sir.you see, I was raised by my mother's Muggle relatives. My mum and dad were killed when I was less then a year old. I grew up thinking they died in a car crash. At least, that's what my aunt and uncle told me."  
  
The trio started walking towards the bleachers.  
  
"What really happened?" asked Duncan.  
  
Harry seemed surprised that there was someone who didn't know the history of his childhood. "Voldemort killed them. He tried to kill me too, but the curse backfired. Which is why I have the scar." He raised his fringe showing off the vivid lightning bolt.  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," Duncan said genuinely.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Why did your relatives lie to you?" asked Methos.  
  
Harry looked up into sky, at a surprisingly interesting bit of fluff that was floating by.  
  
Methos followed the barely perceptible speck for a few moments. Finally, he said nonchalantly, "You know, being Slytherin means that I keep an eye on everything that I deem important. You're important to me because you became Immortal too young and I want you to at least experience a semi-normal life at some point. I could find out what happened to you in another way. I'd prefer not to though. It's a rather unpleasant way of doing things."  
  
Duncan raised an eyebrow and gave Methos a look. Harry glared.  
  
It was rather impressive coming from a boy so young, Methos noted. "A few more years and I might be scared when you look at me like that, Harry."  
  
Silence stretched between the three men for a few moments more, until the fluff was gone from sight.  
  
"Nothing you say here will ever leave this field. Believe me when I say that I value my privacy. I've known Duncan for several years now and he only knows about two of my bigger past identities.and he just learned one of those yesterday. One of these days, when I think you'll be able to better appreciate it, we'll have a talk about my past."  
  
Duncan gave Methos another searching look.  
  
Methos returned it, unapologetic.  
  
"Are you sure?" Harry asked a few seconds later.  
  
"Swear upon Slytherin honor. I do keep my word, even if future students of my House didn't follow in my footsteps."  
  
Harry sighed, "They thought that I was a 'freak' and wanted to stamp it out of me." He paused. "They were awful, really. I suppose I'm glad that they aren't really my family after all. I mean, related wise. They were never my family in any kind of emotional way. Dumbledore has been there for me more then they have."  
  
"Has he?"  
  
Harry nodded. "He's always there, like my grandfather. I really don't have any other family, except for my godfather, Sirius, who always seems to be doing this mission or that for Dumbledore, well, at least when he's not running from Aurors." Harry sighed wistfully, "It'd be nice to see him more often."  
  
Duncan and Methos exchanged looks. Finally, Duncan asked, "Why is he running? Why not ask Dumbledore to let you have some time together?"  
  
Harry chewed on his lip, "It's.it's complicated. He's got to run because they think he's guilty of a crime he didn't commit. And because it's so risky for him to come to Hogwarts, I don't want to spend time with him, when it could be used to try and fight Voldemort, because it feel so selfish. What if the time I spend with him results in another person dying during a mission, and that death could have been prevented if Sirius had been there?" The look Harry gave the two older men was a mixture of guilt and genuine fear that someone really would die if he spent time with his godfather.  
  
Methos exchanged a look with Duncan then looked at Harry again. "I guarantee that seeing your godfather for a day or so isn't going to compromise anything, especially seeing as how Voldemort's activities always seem to revolve around you at critical moments." He sighed, "You're Immortal. You'll never get old and, unless you lose your head, you aren't going to die. Your friends and your godfather will age, they will get ill, and one day they will die. Spend as much time with them as you can, and if this means telling Dumbledore to give your godfather the day off, then so be it."  
  
Harry looked thoughtful.  
  
Methos clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Immortality is a whole new ball game.just remember that no matter how much good Dumbledore means, he can't possibly understand what exactly it is that you're going through, or what you will be going through. Take his advice with that in mind, all right?"  
  
Harry turned away. "I suppose I can try."  
  
"That's all I can expect and all I ask. Fair enough?"  
  
Harry looked up and smiled slightly. "I suppose so."  
  
"Good."  
  
"We're leaving to return to Muggle London tonight so we can get everything straight before term starts up again. Can we get you anything, Harry?" asked Duncan.  
  
"Aside from a real sword, that is," added Methos. "I'll take care of that."  
  
"Not really, except perhaps for some sweets, maybe some chocolate? I've been entirely too healthy to get some off sympathetic house mates when I'm sick, and Snape wouldn't let me go to Honeyduke's while I was in Hogsmeade." Harry grinned ruefully. "I was lucky that I got as much shopping as I did, done."  
  
Methos grinned. "Consider it done. We've got to get Duncan a wand anyway."  
  
"What for?" asked both Harry and Duncan almost simultaneously.  
  
"Duncan's got to learn magic. He may not be able to do much-yet at least, but I'd rather him start training now so that if something does go wrong he won't completely helpless."  
  
"I could help out if you'd like. I'm not all that book smart, but I know my way around a few spells on the practical side."  
  
Duncan was both intrigued and a bit nervous. To learn something that he'd thought was only the stuff of fairy tales? To be fair though, what Cassandra did was a form of magic, and Methos did have a point, if he was going to be connected to the Wizarding world, he should know how to fight by its rules. "Agreed, but only if it doesn't take too much of your time. You'll hardly learn how to fight if you're too tired to stand on your feet."  
  
"It wouldn't be any trouble. I mean, I'll have to work on my swordplay everyday, I could find a bit of time to teach him the basics. And besides, it does help me to practice my skills, which is a good thing, right?"  
  
"It's always a good thing. And besides, it seems like a fair trade to me." Methos mused. "Duncan, you get to beat up Harry with a sword, then Harry gets to return the favor with magic."  
  
"When you put it that way." Duncan replied dryly.  
  
"It's agreed then." Methos smiled in that charming "everything is going to plan" way.  
  
"Perfect. I don't know about you, gentlemen, but I'm going to head up to the library and take a cursory look around to see what books I might want to bring back with me. I figure we have three hours or so until we eat. It'll only take me a few minutes to pack." Methos frowned. "We're going to have to get robes as well, aren't we? Harry, what do your classmates know about us?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Nothing really. They think it has something to do with me because of the sword play earlier, but that's about it."  
  
"Could we get away with Muggle clothing, Harry? I'm not sure how strict or relaxed Hogwarts is during the year," asked Methos  
  
"You'd stand out a bit, but you'd probably be fine."  
  
"We probably should get robes, at least for the Welcome Back feast, just so we can look 'official' if only for the night, and then we can say screw it and go back to jeans and slacks."  
  
Duncan glared. "You can't say that in front of the students."  
  
Methos scoffed. "Oh, please, Duncan, like you'll see me in front of the students. I'll blend so well into the books that the only way Harry here will be able to find me is the fact that he can sense me." He laughed. "Besides, it's not like they haven't heard it before. Or said it."  
  
"I'd like to see someone out-bookworm Hermione," offered Harry. "She'd absolutely flip that someone could best her at that. Maybe it'd make her get out of the library a bit more. It's been rather lonely with her always in the library studying for her N.E.W.T.s."  
  
"She's studying for a lizard?" asked Duncan in disbelief.  
  
Harry and Methos laughed.  
  
"No, N.E.W.T.s are the exams we have to take at the end of our seventh year. The 'Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests.' They're supposed to tell the outside world how good we are at magic or something. Really though, I think it was invented by professors to get back at having to teach us for seven years. The O.W.L.s-Ordinary Wizarding Levels-were bad enough, I've heard that the N.E.W.T.s are ten times worse!"  
  
Methos tried to not snicker, but only ended up coughing.  
  
"Ha! I knew it!" Harry declared triumphantly. "Damn. If only I could brag about it."  
  
"What line does Hogwarts: A History feed you about the exams?"  
  
"That book just says that the O.W.L.s and the N.E.W.T.s are for our Own Good."  
  
Methos smirked ever so slightly. "Such an obedient book."  
  
"Are you sure I can't even tell Hermione or Ron?"  
  
"They're your best friends, I presume?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
Methos shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm even more aware than you about just how difficult it is to keep a secret in this place."  
  
Harry snorted. "Tell me about it. It's scary how fast things get around sometimes."  
  
Methos leaned over to Harry conspiratorially. "You have no idea just how easy it is for the right person to hear everything that goes on here."  
  
Harry narrowed his eyes. "You can spy in on everything, can't you?"  
  
Methos smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"  
  
"Come on, Methos. Tell me something! I promise not to share!"  
  
Methos looked mildly offended. "And give up all my secrets? To a Gryffindor no less? That would just be an offense against.well. Me."  
  
Harry muttered. "Stupid Slytherins. Always thinking that they're better then the rest of us."  
  
"An attitude like that is hardly likely to get you any secrets out of me." Methos noted dryly.  
  
"I was thinking that you were less judgmental than they are."  
  
"I do tend to be rather relaxed, yes, but really, Harry, I was joking. Lighten up, kid. Although, if you are going to be so harsh against my House, then maybe there is something going for going back to the old ways."  
  
Harry had the grace to blush. "Sorry," he mumbled.  
  
"Haven't had the best of luck with Slytherins, have you?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
Although he tried not to, Methos couldn't help but sound a little testy. "I wouldn't expect you to get along with them, Harry, but we're not all bad. Take a little more time before making the blanket statements, would you? Not everything is as black and white as some people would make it out to be." He glanced at Duncan. His past as a Horseman was still a point of contention between the two Immortals, one that wasn't brought up by an unspoken agreement.  
  
"I'll try, sir," He looked at Methos. "I mean, you're pretty cool and you are Slytherin. Maybe they aren't as bad as I think they are, then."  
  
Methos smiled. "That's the spirit. All right then, have a good afternoon Harry. I think I'll head up to the library now. If I don't see you before I leave, just be careful and don't get yourself killed while we're gone, all right? Trust me, it's a lot easier to stay alive then have to create a new identity."  
  
"I promise that I'll stay alive. I've no real desire to be dead at the moment, unless Snape decides to spring a pop quiz on me. I still haven't done the work assigned for the holidays."  
  
Methos winked. "I'll be sure to let him know." He laughed at Harry's indignant protest as he made his way back to the school proper, and towards the library. 


	4. Eye for an Eye

3. Eye for an Eye  
  
True to Dumbledore's offer, the two men left Hogwarts not long after dinner. Once in London, they split up to get their things in order to spend the next term at Hogwarts. They reunited at the Leaky Cauldron the day before the Hogwarts Express was due to return to the school.  
  
Their first stop had been Gringott's. When he'd presented his key to vault number 23, their assistants bored tone suddenly became much more welcoming, or, as Duncan thought, rather worshipful.  
  
When Duncan saw the pile of gold Galleons in the vault he could understand why. It was as if the vault was made of pure gold. The entire floor was covered in the coins; Duncan couldn't begin to imagine how much Methos must have been worth. He looked over at Methos who was busy grabbing a few handfuls into a pouch that he handed over to Duncan, before filling a second one for himself.  
  
Once safely outside, Duncan asked Methos about the money.  
  
"Well, when you haven't touched your account in seven hundred years you're bound to make a little bit of interest."  
  
Duncan shook his head. "I'll say. Are you sure that you want to give me this much money? I can pay you back."  
  
Methos shrugged. "Don't worry about it, it's not like I'm going to miss it." He was probably right. The handful of Galleons was probably a few months interest.  
  
They next headed to Ollivander's. Not only did Duncan need a wand, but also Methos couldn't remember what he'd done with his. How Methos lost his wand, but kept track of an even smaller key Duncan wasn't sure of, but he didn't deign to ask. Methos probably didn't know himself.  
  
The rest of the day proved to be equally free of hassles. Neither Immortal had problems finding a wand. It had been just as easy to find suitable robes to wear to the returning feast the next night, and Methos had even had the time to roam the shelves at Flourish and Blott's gathering quite a stack of texts to bring back to the school with them.  
  
In no time at all, they had boarded the Hogwarts Express and found themselves seats near the front of the train, away from all the chaos of the happy chattering of students as they swapped stories of their holidays. Relaxing as the train chugged along the tracks, they took to discussing Duncan's last conversation with Joe.  
  
".And then he offered us the best of luck, and told us that if Harry's Watcher should ever need some stress relief to send him over to the bar and drinks would be on the house. For some odd reason, Joe seems to think that Harry will be a handful." Duncan smirked. "I can't imagine where he'd get that idea from."  
  
"Nor can I, MacLeod. We are the paragon of virtue. As innocent as freshly fallen snow."  
  
Duncan snorted and Methos laughed along.  
  
"Speaking of Harry, tucked away in the corner of my apartment I found the sword I meant to give him."  
  
"Oh? Let me see?"  
  
Methos reached under his seat and pulled out a bundle wrapped loosely in fabric. Inside the folds of soft fabric lie two swords. One was his Ivanhoe, the one he'd been using for the past century. He pulled it aside, resting it atop of his coat. The other sword was much older, much cruder. Duncan could still see the hammer marks that lined the sword. The pommel was short and unexceptional; the leather wrapping it was worn with years of use. The only sign of decoration on it was a silver snake that rested on the edge of the pommel. The design was simple enough to not get in the way. Duncan had no doubt that this sword had seen its share of action.  
  
"It's the sword I used during my tenure as Slytherin. It's not the nicest blade made, that's for certain." Methos tilted the sword so the blade stuck up, the sun reflecting off the sharpened surface. "But the magical enchantments on it are priceless. Never have to sharpen the blade, and thanks to an Unbreakable Charm it can't be broken." He ran a finger across it, slicing it neatly, as if to prove his point. He sucked on the finger and seconds later you couldn't tell there had been any wound. "All it needs is to be cleaned. The balance is probably perfect. I never had a problem with it, he probably won't either."  
  
"May I?" Duncan asked.  
  
Methos nodded and passed the sword over.  
  
Duncan held the sword in his hand for a few moments, testing the weight and the weight and the balance. He ran his fingers over the flat of the blade, appreciating the time that went into making the sword, even if it was crude by the standards of his own katana. He stood then, and though the compartment wasn't that big, Duncan had room enough to swing it a few times, getting a feel for the blade. He sat down, satisfied and handed the sword back over to Methos, saying "Harry'll love this," Duncan grinned at Methos, just as the door to the compartment opened.  
  
"Love what? Who are you?" asked an unfamiliar feminine voice.  
  
Both men turned to face two students standing in the doorway to their compartment. The girl had bushy hair that was tied up in a low ponytail, a Gryffindor. The boy had silver blond hair, cropped short and impeccably styled. Methos didn't need to see the crest to know that this person was a Slytherin. Both had on Head Student badges.  
  
Methos took the sword back while getting unsubtle stares from the two students. "It's a gift, and before we tell you who we are, it would only be polite of you to tell us who you are, seeing as you have barged in on us without so much as a 'by your leave' or telling us your name. Head Students or not, that's still rather rude."  
  
"I'm Hermione Granger."  
  
"Draco Malfoy."  
  
"We're looking for a toad that answers to the name of Trevor," Hermione added. Neither Duncan nor Methos looked overly impressed with this statement.  
  
"How could an escaped toad enter through a closed door?" Duncan asked politely.  
  
The two students didn't really have an answer to that. They hadn't expected to find anyone but students, people who would have been mildly annoyed at most by the interruption, but all accustomed to Neville's inability to keep track of his pet.  
  
"He could have entered the car before you shut the door," the girl said defensively.  
  
"And if he had, we would have gone looking for its owner," Methos pointed out. "And besides, it doesn't take both the Head Boy and Head Girl to go looking for one pet."  
  
"Neville-the boy who owns this frog-is my friend. Of course I'd help to look for him." Hermione replied.  
  
"I'm just along for the amusement. Should I find the frog before anyone else." Draco frowned slightly. "Why are you interrogating us? We've the right to go anywhere on this train we please to keep order. We still don't even know who you are."  
  
"I'm Duncan MacLeod."  
  
"Adam Pierson. We're on a special project for the Ministry of Magic. Dumbledore knows to expect our arrival, as does young Mr. Potter."  
  
There was an uneasy silence that was finally broken by Draco. "Very well. Come on, Granger. They obviously don't have that stupid toad here."  
  
Hermione gave them one parting look as they left, still wondering just what an ugly sword had to do with one of her best friends, before shutting the door.  
  
"Well, that was fun," Duncan commented.  
  
"Indeed. Keep an eye on the blond one."  
  
"Why? He seems a bit rude perhaps, but that's hardly a reason to watch him, Methos."  
  
"He's a Malfoy," Methos stated simply, as if it should explain everything. "The Malfoy blood line has existed nearly as long as Slytherin has, and their history is entangled with my House to the point that you would think that they are my descendants. No pureblood line has had as many descendents in a single House as the Malfoy's do with Slytherin. If any students were to figure out this particular identity of mine, I would be willing to stake money that it would be Draco."  
  
"Justifiable paranoia. I understand."  
  
Methos rolled his eyes. "Thanks." He looked down at his watch. "We should be getting to Hogwarts soon. We should robe up, once we get off the train it'll be time to eat."  
  
* * * With the clamor to first get carriages with their friends, and then prime seats in the Great Hall for dinner, both Immortals managed to make their way into the castle with a minimal amount of fuss.  
  
As soon as everyone had assembled, Dumbledore rang his fork against his goblet. "May I have your attention please?" He waited a few moments before the chatter died out.  
  
"Welcome back to Hogwarts for a new term, everyone."  
  
Students applauded and cheered politely.  
  
"I have an announcement to make. I would like to introduce you all to our new guests. They come to us from the Ministry and are here to help in the fight against Voldemort." To my far left is Duncan MacLeod, who is here to teach martial arts and self-defense to those in third year and up. Signs up for those who wish to learn will be on the door to the Great Hall starting tonight, and lessons will commence a week from today."  
  
Students applauded and a few, particularly the Muggle-borns, talked excitedly with their neighbors over the thought of learning how to fight. Dumbledore raised his hands for silence.  
  
"And sitting to his right is Adam Pierson. He's a specialist in obscure magic and hopes to further his luck with finding spells that will help bring down the Dark Lord." There was less applause for Adam, but he didn't mind. It meant that less students would bother him, although Methos did notice that Hermione was suddenly looking much more intently at him, in the way that a hungry lion looks at a piece of meat. He just hoped she wouldn't be too nosy.  
  
As Methos looked away from the Gryffindor table and scanned the room, his eyes fell onto the Slytherin table, and onto Draco Malfoy. The blond boy was engaged with conversation with his classmates, although he did pause to go Methos a slight smirk. He shrugged it off and returned his attention to the mean, engaging Madame Pince in a conversation about the restricted section of the library.  
  
* * * Methos stood after dinner, feeling the magically-lightened weight of the two swords beneath his robes. He'd had Madame Malkin sew in reinforced straps to hold the blades, that combined with some weight-reducing spells and only if you looked closely could you tell that there were swords hidden by the robes at all. Although Duncan still wasn't thrilled by the thought of wearing them, the thought that he could carry his katana on him was enough to make him agree to wear them on a regular basis.  
  
"Come on, Duncan, let's catch up with Harry before he hits the Gryffindor common room."  
  
"You've got it?"  
  
"Of course. The sooner Harry has this-and knows how to use it-the better I'll feel."  
  
"Why Adam, are you getting soft in your old age?"  
  
"Bite me, Highlander."  
  
They found Harry a bit down the hallway, amidst his friends. Hermione Granger stood on one side, and an unfamiliar redhead stood on the other.  
  
"Harry? May we talk with you for a moment?" Duncan called out.  
  
"We won't keep you long, promise."  
  
"All right then, but can I introduce my friends first?" Harry asked. It would be hard enough to keep the whole Immortal and that Adam-was-Slytherin thing secret; the more he could include his friends, the better.  
  
"Of course Harry." Duncan smiled.  
  
"This is Hermione Granger, and that's Ron Weasley."  
  
The immortals shook hands with the two other students and Hermione colored slightly.  
  
"Look, I'm really, really sorry about the way I behaved on the train. I won't do that again."  
  
Duncan smiled kindly, "It's all right. We make mistakes."  
  
She smiled politely and turned to Adam. "Is it true that you study obscure magic? And what exactly is obscure magic? Are they just generally unknown spells, or spells so old that people have forgotten about them?"  
  
Ron whispered to Duncan. "Don't mind her. She loves any new source of knowledge. I think Mr. Pierson has himself a new worshipper." Ron shuddered. "I'm putting her out of my misery if she gets as gooey as she did over Lockhart."  
  
"Lockhart?" asked Duncan.  
  
While Ron started to explain to him the disaster that was the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and Hermione began protesting that she didn't really like that guy, but was just trying to fit in with her classmates for once, Methos pulled Harry aside.  
  
"You've got a free double period tomorrow after lunch?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Good. I've talked to Dumbledore and he's agreed to let us use a classroom for your training and what have you. It's on the second floor, in the east wing leading towards the greenhouses, third door on the left from the staircase. You're going to start training, so be sure to wear something comfortable under your robes."  
  
"Seamus is going to be annoyed with me. I was supposed to help him prepare for a History of Magic quiz."  
  
"Make up an excuse, I'm sure you've got a stockpile of them. The sooner you learn to fight the better. We'll schedule the rest of your practices later." He nodded towards Duncan, who was now trying to mediate a growing fight between Harry's friends. "I don't think he can hold them much longer."  
  
It didn't take long for Harry to agree with Methos' assessment. "All right. I'll be there." He jogged the few steps to his friends. "Guys.calm down.really." Harry waved them off.  
  
Methos and Duncan gracefully left, leaving Harry to deal with his two worked up friends.  
  
* * * After Harry closed the door to the classroom that had been claimed by the two Immortals, his eyes went wide at what he saw. The desk that a professor might have once used had been pushed to the side and was covered in books and bits of paper. Giant mats covered the main part of the floor, and only a few chairs remained along the sidewall. Things Harry had no way of recognizing were scattered about on the counters, waiting to be put away.  
  
The most surprising thing in the room though, had nothing to do with the new furniture or lack there of. It was the two men in the middle. Duncan and Methos were sparring, and it was quite clear that Duncan was the superior of the two. His lines were more graceful, and seemed to intercept Methos' attacks more often then not. That wasn't to say that Methos wasn't holding his own-it took a significant amount for either one to gain an advantage, and both men were sweating and breathing heavily. But Duncan's skill won out over Methos' tenacity and Harry watched as Duncan's sword wound up pressing against Methos' neck.  
  
"What does that make it, Methos? 25 to 2?"  
  
"Ha. Bloody. Ha. Just help me up would you? There's a reason I don't fight that often."  
  
Duncan grinned and pulled Methos to his feet, "Hey there, Harry." Duncan greeted the young Wizard warmly.  
  
"Um. Wow. That was amazing!"  
  
Methos picked up a hand towel and tossed a second one at Duncan. "And soon enough you'll be that good. Better then me at least."  
  
Harry started to walk towards them, but was stopped quickly by Duncan. "Take off your shoes, please. It's disrespectful to walk on the mat with them. You might as well take off your robe too, you'll just get tangled up in it."  
  
Harry looked confused, and Methos nodded that he should as Duncan asked before turning away to rummage around on the already cluttered desk.  
  
Harry put his things into a cubby box and turned back around, walking towards where Duncan was now resting on the mat. "Is Duncan older then you, Methos?"  
  
Although Methos' eyebrow rose in response to that question, he was far enough away that Harry couldn't see his reaction.  
  
Duncan snorted. "Let's just say I was born in 1592."  
  
Harry frowned. "So Methos.Adam.is obviously older then you are. Why is his fighting so much worse?"  
  
"What makes you think that I can't fight as good as Duncan can?" Methos turned around, and leaned against the desk.  
  
"Duncan seemed, well, more graceful then you. Like he was surer of his movements. I'm not sure. But from watching what little I saw, if I were to put money on the two of you, I'd bet on Duncan."  
  
Methos grinned slightly. "Now ponder this. I'm obviously older then Duncan, at least by 700 years, yet I'm still alive. If my skills were that poor, how could I survive? Think about who I am, Harry." He walked over to one of the racks that was decorated with weaponry and picked up a sword.  
  
Harry hemmed and hawed for a few moments. "You're a Slytherin. They-or at least the smarter ones-don't like to show their hand unless they absolutely have to. If you pretend that you can't fight, then people think they can win-until it's too late." He looked up. "Does this mean you're as good as Duncan then, and you're really just letting him win? I mean, with that kind of record."  
  
Methos smirked, Duncan frowned and Harry looked amused at the two older men's reactions.  
  
"So, Methos! You were going to give Harry something." Duncan's voice sounded a little strained as he went to go put his shirt back on.  
  
"Oh lighten up, Duncan," Methos chided as he swung the sword up in front of him and looked at Harry. "Remember that conversation we had the other day about Godric's sword?"  
  
Harry nodded slightly.  
  
"I told you that that sword was meant for display. You need something that will last you for decades-for centuries to come. I want you to have this. It's enchanted, and I'm sure you'll find that it comes in handy." He turned the sword so Harry could see the snake. "If you rub your finger along the length of the snake, the sword will conceal itself, making it even easier to carry inside your robes. And trust me, Harry you will carry it in your robes. I highly doubt an Immortal will bother to wait for you while you run up to Gryffindor Tower because you left your sword there."  
  
Harry nodded. "I guess I can see that. How do I make it reappear?"  
  
Methos smiled, "It will only reappear by repeating the motion. This means you don't need your wand-valuable seconds which may well save your life. I have to admit, I'm rather proud of the charm. Made life so much easier." He handed the sword over. "Go ahead. Try it."  
  
Harry held the sword in both of his hands, getting used to the weight and the feel. Finally, he rubbed his thumb over the snake.  
  
There was a quiet hiss. "Yes, Massster," and the sword disappeared. Harry nearly dropped the sword when he heard the voice.  
  
Although Duncan looked disturbed by the hissing, Harry was more surprised by the fact that it said something intelligible. "Does it always do that?" Harry asked. "I mean, call you Master."  
  
Methos shook his head. "I wouldn't worry about it. The sword isn't actually animate, just the snake when the charm is activated."  
  
"Oh. Okay." After ending the charm, Harry swung it a few times. "This will take some getting used to." Harry examined the blade, and noted how it really didn't look anything like Godric's sword. It was heavier, the blade duller, and lacking the ornamentation that was so vivid on Gryffindor's sword. Most notably, it lacked the name of its owner. Even though he still knew next to nothing about swords, it was obvious that this sword was meant to be used. "Where did you get this?"  
  
"Legend has it that the sword belonged to Death. I received it as a gift. It served Slytherin well, and now it will serve you well, Harry Potter."  
  
Duncan stopped cold in his tracks and gave Methos a long, hard, look. "Death, Methos?"  
  
He nodded slightly. "Yes, Duncan, your hearing is just fine."  
  
"Death?" Harry echoed.  
  
"It is a part of us all, Harry. Muggle and Wizard, mortal and Immortal. It is who we are." Although his tone was carefully cool, it was obvious even to Harry that there was more to his statement then what was on the surface.  
  
"Thank you, Methos. I'll take good care of it, promise." Harry smiled, the expression showing some of the boys unease at the sudden tension in the room.  
  
"Use it to stay alive, Harry, that's all I ask."  
  
"May I talk to Methos in private, Harry?"  
  
"But I thought we were going to start training today," Harry protested.  
  
"We were.but now it'll have to wait until tomorrow. When are you free?" Duncan asked, never quite taking his eyes off of Methos.  
  
"Um.about an hour before dinner, after Potions."  
  
"Excellent. We'll meet in here then. Bring the sword with you."  
  
"Yes, Duncan."  
  
Methos looked at Harry. "I think I'd take this opportunity to leave early if I were you, Duncan can be quite the taskmaster." There was a false levity in his voice.  
  
Harry wasn't sure what was going on, but despite his Gryffindor foolishness, he knew when it was time to retreat, and he took it. He quickly put on his shoes, and his robes, and picked up the sword, activating the charm to conceal it. With one last look, he fled the room, leaving the two angry Immortals staring at one another.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me you used that sword when you were Death?"  
  
Methos hissed, "Gee, Duncan, let me think. Could it be because I had no desire to be having this conversation?"  
  
"Was it really necessary to bring up your past like that? Harry doesn't need to know that." The implication that he wished he didn't know about hung heavily between them.  
  
"Do you really think that he'll even figure out what I meant by that, Duncan? When most people think of Death, they think about the Grim Reaper with pale horse and scythe, the incarnation of one of their greatest fears. They never stop to think that the legends might have a basis in reality."  
  
"Then what's the point of even hinting at it?"  
  
"He will think about death and mortality, Duncan. His own. His friends. Voldemort. He needs to accept who he is, who he has become. It's not going to be easy, and I imagine it might take a few more physical lessons to bring that home to him. I'm just starting the process. He is my student, I will do what I think is best for him."  
  
"He's my student too, Methos, I'd beg your indulgence to consider that, or I won't teach him."  
  
"You will teach him, Highlander. We both know that he's too young to be one of us. He's younger then Ritchie was when he died. Your conscience wouldn't let you walk away."  
  
Impasse. Duncan knew that Methos was right. He still felt guilt over Richie's too early death at his own hands.  
  
"And what happens if Harry does figure out who you were?"  
  
"We'll just see, won't we? Somehow though, I have a feeling that he'd be more forgiving than you'll ever be. He knows that I'm Slytherin. He has a hint of my less then goody-two-shoe past. He's been fighting forces that are worse then I ever was since he was eleven. I think there's a chance he might actually understand that the past was the past. It'd be a refreshing change, actually."  
  
Duncan wasn't going to give Methos the gratification of taking the bait.  
  
He left, leaving the eldest immortal to himself.  
  
* * * It was difficult to not notice the tension between Duncan and Methos over the next several days. Their only conversations were so utterly polite that Harry wondered why they even bothered at all. Whatever Methos had meant by the Death comment, it was obviously a point of contention between the two Immortals and something worth investigating.  
  
Finding the time to do so would prove to be difficult, Harry realized. Methos wanted to work him at least an hour a day. Duncan wanted at least two hours a day, one hour for martial arts and condition, and an hour for sword work. Between that, classes, Quidditch and homework, he barely had anytime to relax, let alone to try and figure out the riddle of "Death" that Methos had mentioned.  
  
Four days later he found himself in the library, supposedly to do research for the latest essay from Professor Binns. He worked on it for about a half hour before he found his mind wandering too much to get any real work done on the paper. On a whim he started searching through the books on mythology, looking for anything that might lead him on the right track.  
  
"Harry! How unusual to see you here on a Saturday."  
  
"Oh, hey Hermione. I've just got so much stuff to do."  
  
"The Ministry people keeping you busy?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah. I'm learning loads from them, it just takes up a lot of time."  
  
"You're not letting them interfere with your work, are you?" She gave him that Look that said that even if it was, he'd better not admit it.  
  
"No, of course not, Hermione."  
  
"Good. I'd hate for you to do poorly on the N.E.W.T.s because of them. What are you working on?"  
  
Without really realizing what he was saying, Harry replied, "I'm looking for Death."  
  
She gave Harry a strange look. "That's morbid. Why?"  
  
Harry had to think fast for an explanation she would buy. "Trelawney wants me to research the meaning of the symbol of Death." He tried to look bitter, something that was all too easy to fake when it came to one of his least favorite professors, "After all, she's always predicting my demise."  
  
Hermione made a face-her dislike of Trelawney hadn't diminished in the least since third year-but she'd been itching for something new to research and learn about. At least this would tide her over until something else caught her interest.  
  
"All right, Harry. I'll give it a look for you."  
  
"Thanks, Hermione! You're great! I owe you one."  
  
"You owe me about twenty," Hermione teased.  
  
Harry grinned. "I'll buy you a new book next time we go to Hogsmeade?"  
  
Hermione grinned. "Deal."  
  
Harry suddenly felt a lot better about the whole thing; after all, if the information was to be found, she would be the one to find it.  
  
* * * It had taken two days, but Methos finally managed Duncan to calm down over the whole Death issue. It had taken various threats to Duncan's manhood and proving that he had the ability to do exactly what he could claim he could, but considering he hadn't had to resort to manslaughter to get Duncan to stop brooding, Methos figured he'd done pretty well.  
  
Although Harry had yet to find anything, Hermione was still diligently on the case for him, and he was able to relax and started to enjoy the sessions with Duncan and Methos. He knew that he had a long road ahead of him when it came to the fighting, but actually knowing how to use the sword was cool. Even so, it was the magic that grabbed Harry's attention. For one thing, the things Methos were teaching him weren't even based upon the Latin that all the other magics taught at Hogwarts were, but rather upon Late Egyptian. A few days after started the lessons, Binns began to lecture about the Egyptian wizards, but had explained that the inherent complexities of the unfamiliar tongue combined with more modern spells for the practical work meant that most of it had been rendered obsolete.  
  
"But if it's obsolete, then why learn it?" Harry asked as they left lunch heading towards the room they practiced in.  
  
"It's as you said, Harry, only most of it is obsolete. While transfigurations have been refined and potions safer, there's one area in which Egyptians have always outshined Greco-Roman wizardry. I'm sure you can guess what that might be."  
  
"Curses." Harry supplied.  
  
Methos nodded. "Exactly. Although the Muggles now claim that there were no curses on King Tut's tomb, I guarantee that there were when was first buried. No way the court wizards would have left the late Pharaoh unprotected. The dynasty had always been good to the magical community; they felt that they owed it to him to let him rest in the afterlife peacefully."  
  
"How do you know this stuff? And since I'm learning how to speak this stuff, does this mean that I have to learn how to read hieroglyphics as well?"  
  
Methos smiled mysteriously. "Slytherin was powerful for a reason, Harry. And if you want to learn to read it, I'm sure I can brush up on it, although I'm probably a bit rusty myself."  
  
"It might not be bad," Harry mused, "I could actually read some of those spell books you have, instead of just relying on you to tell me the truth about what's contained in them."  
  
"Do you really think I'd lead you astray, Harry?"  
  
"You're a Slytherin, Methos," he explained, as if it was the most obvious explanation. "Besides, there might be more stuff in there that you left out."  
  
Methos snorted. "All right. Just for that, I am going to make you learn. Just so I can prove to you that in fact, the books are rather dull. Not to mention, I can actually give you homework this way."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Methos smirked. "You asked for it."  
  
"Did not!"  
  
The argument might have continued all the way up to the tower, had Hermione not come barreling towards the two immortals at just that moment, Ron trailing behind.  
  
"Harry! I found something!" She was so excited about her discovery, that it took her a few more seconds to append a "Hello, Mr. Pierson" onto her statement.  
  
"Library time, Ron?" Harry asked, grinning.  
  
"Library time. I found this after." Ron's grin was even bigger then Harry's. He'd started to enjoy the musty old place since he'd convinced Hermione to kiss him amongst the old books during their sixth year. Perhaps not so surprisingly, Ron had suddenly become more useful in the research department. "You hadn't told me you were doing a project for that old bat!"  
  
"Didn't I? Must have slipped my mind. So what did you find, Hermoine?" While Harry hadn't forgotten that she was researching Death for him, it had slipped into the back of his mind, with the pleasantness of the past few days of training.  
  
"I did. Listen to this," Hermione commanded as she began to read:  
  
Although many Muggles see Death as only a symbolic creature, an entity that will arise at the time of the Apocalypse, it has been known amongst wizards for thousands of years that in fact, Death has already existed, and he was one of the Four Horsemen. The exact dates they rode are unknown, except that it was at least two thousand years ago, if not even longer. Together, they rode across and devastated the known world, including what we now know as Greece, Rome, Turkey, and the Middle East. Some speculate that they even made it as far as modern day India, although we cannot be certain. We are still even unsure if the riders of the Horseman changed every few years; although it is only logical to presume so, the physical descriptions by survivors never changed, and more convincing, people have sworn that they have delivered what should have been fatal injuries upon them, only to hear of their attacking a near village days later, suggesting that at the least they must have been wizards, for Muggle medicine at the time could not have healed such blows so quickly. While we may never know how Death has survived, there is one thing we know for certain: no one who stood in his way lived to talk about it. To see Death's mask was to die; while the ones called War, Famine and Pestilence are known to have taken hundreds, if not thousands of slaves; if Death took slaves, they were so few as to go unrecorded. During Death's reign, thousands died by his hand and hundreds of village went up under the torch. His ruthlessness was so well known that only the gods were more feared then he. Death indirectly influenced many aspects of life for Muggle and wizard kind alike thus not only standing for death, but for change. This dual aspect has lead to the use of Death in all aspects of Divination, from the reading of entrails to that of tarot cards.  
  
"It goes on about what finding Death means, but that should satisfy Professor Trelawney, shouldn't it?"  
  
Harry had watched Methos out of the corner of his eye as Hermione read. Methos' body stiffened, his face had become an unreadable mask.  
  
"Yeah, Hermione. It's great. Thanks." He forced a smile and barely managed to make his voice sound appreciative.  
  
She put the book in his hands. "No problem, Harry. I'm always glad to help."  
  
Methos hissed. "How could you, Potter? Meet me after Quidditch practice." He turned on his heel and started walking away.  
  
"What about practice right now?" Harry called out.  
  
Methos kept walking away.  
  
"How incredibly rude! You didn't even do anything, Harry!"  
  
"It's all right Hermione."  
  
"No. It's not. He doesn't deserve to yell at you when you didn't do anything!"  
  
Harry tried to protest more, but she had already taken off, "Mr. Pierson! Please stop!"  
  
He didn't stop.  
  
She ran up and stood in front of him, moving from side to side not letting him pass. "Hey! Stop, would you! Harry didn't do anything! You've no right to yell at him!"  
  
Methos sneered and answered in a venomous voice. "You ignorant little Mudblood. You don't know anything about what Harry has, or hasn't done. And right now, you yelling at me over something you've no knowledge of isn't going to make anything better. If you're as smart as all the professors suggest you are, you'll step out of the way and let me go."  
  
There were gasps from the few other students who'd manage to overhear the conversation. Hermione was stunned enough that Methos was able to easily slide past her. Ron looked ready to kill, and Harry had to grab his friend's arm to stop him from going after Adam.  
  
"Ron. Let him go."  
  
"How can you say that, Harry? After what he just said to Hermione!"  
  
"Just trust me, Ron. Please. I promise, I'll find out what made him snap tonight!" Ron growled, yanked his arm from Harry's grip, but let it fall to his side. Watching Methos retreat, he continued, "You'd better make him apologize."  
  
"You know I can't promise you that."  
  
"You'd damn well better try." Disgusted, he turned away. "He's no better then that git Malfoy. Come on, Hermione, let's go."  
  
Hermione let herself be led away. Harry wanted to chase after them, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He hadn't realized that Methos would be so upset about telling Hermione about the Death thing; it seemed trivial really.  
  
He stood in the halls, staring at the retreating forms of his friends. Why would he be upset that he'd asked Hermione for help? Remember the look on Duncan's face, how strangely he acted, the voice in his head began to say. Remember how short Methos was with Duncan when called on it. There was something more going on, he knew it. Death was an Immortal. But if he was an Immortal, how would Methos have come by his sword unless.Harry's eyes went wide, and he whispered to himself. "Unless Methos was Death."  
  
The sword suddenly felt like lead. He had to apologize to Methos. If he'd had a past like that, he wouldn't want it be broadcast to the general public either.  
  
* * * The moonlight trickled in through the windows, and only a few faint torches burned on the wall as Harry entered the classroom.  
  
"Adam?" Harry looked towards the desk. He could just see the immortal outlined leaning on the desk. "I really am sorry about what happened earlier. The way you mentioned Death.I had to know what you meant. I didn't mean for Hermione to get involved, really. It was an accident."  
  
Methos made no indication that he cared about Harry's explanation at all, and simply replied, "Close the door, Harry, and lock it."  
  
Harry did as he was asked, and he watched Methos quietly cast a sound- absorbing spell on the room.  
  
"Come here, Harry."  
  
Methos waited until Harry did as he was told, and with a smooth motion built from millennia of practice, quickly grabbed the throwing dagger laying by his side, and with deadly accuracy threw the dagger straight into Harry's heart.  
  
Harry staggered; falling to his knees, blood starting to fill his mouth seconds later.  
  
Methos moved to stand above Harry and looked down upon the stunned and dying student. "Hurts, doesn't it?"  
  
Harry coughed, spitting blood onto the worn stones.  
  
"That's what I felt like when you told Ms. Granger about our conversation the other day. This isn't a game, Potter. This is life and death. I told you that everything that happened between us had to be kept in the strictest confidence. You failed me. That's unacceptable." Methos kneeled down by Harry, who was now weakly holding himself up on all fours. "I could take your head right now if I want to, and you couldn't stop me. I won't this time-next time, I might not be so generous." He yanked the knife out of Harry.  
  
"Bastard."  
  
Harry died. 


	5. Obsession

4. Obsession  
  
Harry opened his eyes slowly, putting his hand to his head, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. A few moments later, he could breathe easier. He looked up at the still calm Immortal.  
  
"I hate you."  
  
"Is that right?"  
  
"You had no right to do that to me." Harry eased himself into sitting up.  
  
"I wasn't aware that I needed your permission."  
  
"I'm your student!"  
  
"And it's my job to keep the both of us alive, and if it takes me killing you to imprint the seriousness of our situation then I will do it."  
  
"You're Death, aren't you? That's why Hermione finding that book made you upset, wasn't it? That's why you had that fight with Duncan the other day. He knows about your past."  
  
"Let's just say that I choose to guard my past for good reason. As for Duncan and I. he can't appreciate that I'm not who I used to be. But my past is a discussion for another day. There are things more important here."  
  
"Like what?" Harry demanded.  
  
"The fact that pulling a stunt like this could get you killed. What if instead a history of my past wasn't found, but suddenly knowledge of your Immortality came to light? If what Snape tells me is true, you were ostracized just for being a Parseltongue. If they found out you were immortal, what then? Would people worship you? Fear you? Would Voldemort try to capture you just to torture you endlessly because he could? You don't know. You don't want to know. And the only way to not know is to keep anything related to this-anything at all-limited to us, and your watcher."  
  
"My watcher?"  
  
There was a knock at the door. Harry realized that Methos must have removed the sound-absorbing spell while he was dead. Harry licked his dry lips, wrinkling his nose at the dried blood he could taste.  
  
"Come in." Methos was obviously expecting whoever was the other side of the door.  
  
"Professor Snape?" Harry stared at his potions teacher dumbfounded. Methos had mentioned a Watcher; he didn't think that Methos could possibly mean Snape.  
  
"After that.incident.earlier I realized that you do need a Watcher after all. One who can not only keep an eye on you for posterity reasons, but someone who can guide you, teach you, and curb some of your more foolish impulses."  
  
"And you can be assured, Mr. Potter, that I have absolutely no intentions of interrupting one of your battles. I only hope you will learn to not foolishly charge into battles you've no chance of winning before the inevitable day that you get yourself killed-permanently-because of it." Snape studied Harry intently. "You look like death warmed over, Potter."  
  
"Why thank you sir," Harry muttered, gritting his teeth. He turned to look at Methos. "You really hate me, don't you?"  
  
"Just looking out for your best interests, and besides, he's promised me won't kill you out of frustration."  
  
Harry snorted, "How nice of him. At least I'll have the pleasure of outliving him."  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't be sure of that. Snapes have a tendency of living a very.very.long time."  
  
"Oh, bloody wonderful. I won't even be able to get rid of you, will I?"  
  
"Five points from Gryffindor for unbecoming language in a student."  
  
Harry muttered something inaudible, then sighed. "Anything else you've got to tell me, Methos? Like about how Voldemort is my father or something?"  
  
Snape rolled his eyes. "Come on, Mr. Potter. What part of 'Immortals aren't born of human flesh' did you miss?"  
  
"Well excuse me, I was just trying to think of something equally tragic as having to be stuck with you for the next century of my life!"  
  
"If you live that long," he replied snidely.  
  
"That's it. I'm not putting up with any more of this tonight. Tell Duncan I'll see him tomorrow at the normal time, Adam."  
  
Methos nodded calmly. "I'll do so. Think about tonight, Harry. I'd hate to have to repeat such a harsh lesson."  
  
The only response was the slamming of the door.  
  
Methos looked at Snape, and with forced humor asked, "That went well, didn't it?"  
  
* * * Harry moved quickly through the halls of Hogwarts, thankful that it was close enough to curfew that few students were out; and those that were couldn't see the blood stains on his black student robes.  
  
"Hey, Potter!"  
  
Harry scowled. Malfoy. He was never really in a mood to deal with the bratty blond, let alone right now when he had more important people to loathe, like Methos and Snape.  
  
"Go away, Malfoy."  
  
"Is that anyway to talk to the Head Boy?" Draco casually strode over towards Harry.  
  
"Don't go pulling rank. It's not even curfew yet."  
  
"It will be soon though."  
  
"And if you keep me out deliberately, I can get any points taken reversed by McGonagall."  
  
By now Draco was close enough to get a good look at Harry. "You look like shit. Those Beaters of yours forget how to block?"  
  
Harry scowled. "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"Oh come on, Potter. You can admit that we're going to flatten you in the game next Saturday."  
  
"Malfoy. I'm warning you, let me go."  
  
"You're just like your father. A coward who won't stand up and fight for himself-"  
  
Something inside of Harry snapped, and before he knew it a quick combination of spells and an uttered word had sent Draco flying into the cement wall, his body hitting it with a sickening thud.  
  
The anger instantly disappeared as Draco didn't stand up or retaliate. "Malfoy! Can you hear me?"  
  
There was no response, except a gasp from behind Harry. He spun around and saw a frightened Ravenclaw who'd seen everything. Harry tried to say something, but the boy ran off, presumably to find Professor Flitwick.  
  
Harry sighed and slumped against the wall next to Malfoy. "Stupid git. You always have to make things difficult for me, don't you? You just never know when to leave well enough alone. I told you I wasn't in the mood to deal with you, but no, you just had to go pushing my buttons. I wonder what's with that anyway. It's not like I asked to be your archenemy. I've already got one of those." Harry closed his eyes, "Too many of them."  
  
"Mr. Potter! What's going on here?"  
  
He opened his eyes to see Professor Flitwick standing over him. "Malfoy provoked me, sir," Harry replied listlessly. "I overreacted."  
  
Flitwick shook his head. "You should have known better, Mr. Potter. You'd best go see the Headmaster. I'll take Mr. Malfoy down to the infirmary."  
  
Harry stood. "Yes, sir."  
  
* * * Harry quickly headed over to Dumbledore's office; if he was going to be expelled, he had no desire to have the process be long and drawn out. Professor McGonagall was waiting for him in front of the Gargoyle.  
  
She shook her head, and in a disappointed voice said, "Go up, Mr. Potter. Professor Dumbledore will be waiting for you. Sugar cube."  
  
The gargoyle began to move and Harry quickly moved to climb the staircase. Entering the office, he moved towards Dumbledore's desk and eyed the Sorting Hat, wondering what kind of magic must have gone into making it. He would have to ask Methos.  
  
"Mr. Potter, please do sit down."  
  
Harry took a seat.  
  
"May I offer you some tea?"  
  
"No thank you, Professor. I'm fine."  
  
He poured himself a cup, then leaned back in his chair. "Would you care to tell me what provoked your attack on Mr. Malfoy this evening, Harry?"  
  
Harry frowned, trying to think of something to say. "He provoked me sir. It'd been a long day. I was upset. He started to bait me, like he normally does. Normally I can brush it off.but not today. He made a comment about my father and I snapped. I didn't mean to knock him out! The spell came out more powerful then I expected it to. At least, practicing with Adam it didn't seem as powerful."  
  
"It was one of the spells he taught you then?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"When we let magic be fueled by our passions, it tends to be unpredictable. That's why we try to teach you to control yourself." Dumbledore leaned forward. "You do know that I won't be able to just let you off, Harry."  
  
He looked down. "I know, sir. Am I to be expelled?"  
  
"Most likely, not, Harry. But the severity of your punishment will depend on Mr. Malfoy's condition. We will have to wait and see." Dumbledore looked up. "Ah, there's Professor Snape. Please sit down."  
  
Snape down on Harry's right, glaring at him before turning his attention to the headmaster.  
  
"How is young Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"He woke up on the way to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey says that he has a concussion. She is going to keep him in the infirmary for the next day for observation. I will be contacting Lucius, he has a right to know what has occurred tonight."  
  
"Agreed, Professor. This leaves us with the matter of punishment. As Head of Slytherin house, do you have any suggestions?"  
  
"Actually, I do, Professor." Harry snorted silently. Like that was a surprise. "For the severity of the attack, I propose raising the mandatory one week detention for attacking another student to one month's time. The detention will be served with Mr. Potter's tutors, for an additional two hours a night on top of his normal practice schedule."  
  
"That seems reasonable, Severus."  
  
Harry was surprised by the leniency of Snape's punishment-he would be bone tired, but as Adam had said, the sooner he learned the better, the lesson Adam had taught him tonight had just enforced that.  
  
"And if I might continue, Headmaster. Considering Potter's past behavior, I would also like him to be suspended from anything relating to Gryffindor Quidditch. Although it may seem harsh and unfair, I would offer that anyone else who is not Harry Potter would have had his or her wand broken long ago had they behaved in a manner to the way Potter has conducted himself over these past seven years."  
  
Dumbledore sat considering, looking between a cool Snape and a quickly panicking Harry. Time seemed to stretch endless for Harry, before Dumbledore finally began to speak again. "Your request is granted, Professor Snape."  
  
Harry's mouth dropped open. No wonder Snape was being so kind to him otherwise! Kicking him off the Quidditch team in the midst of the season right before the Slytherin match? He had to know that his House would shun him, if not try to outright harm him.  
  
"Please sir! Gryffindor will lose the Quidditch Cup for sure!"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid, Harry, that Severus is right. I can only turn my head away from your activities for so long. Tonight, a student lies in the infirmary with a bad concussion, an injury that could have easily been avoided. You may talk to your team tomorrow morning at their practice, after that, you may not assist the Quidditch team in any way, you will be restricted to the stands during matches. Am I understood?"  
  
Harry looked defeated, and lifelessly said, "Yes, Professor."  
  
"Why don't you go back to your dormitory, Harry? You've clearly had a rough night."  
  
"Yes, sir." Harry stood and left the room.  
  
As Harry walked back to the Gryffindor dorm, he realized he still didn't have a good excuse to tell Ron and Hermione about why Methos snapped at her, and just why he hated Muggle-borns so much. With each step, his feet dragged and became leaden as he began to dread his final Quidditch practice more and more.  
  
He was not looking forward to tomorrow.  
  
* * * Gryffindors met for Quidditch practice every other day at 6:45 am, giving them one hour to practice and fifteen minutes to change before heading up to the Great Hall for breakfast at eight.  
  
This morning, Harry Potter did not change. He sat floating in midair on his Firebolt, taking one last look around the pitch from the perspective of a player. He'd still be able to fly-on Saturdays Madame Hooch had a "Free Fly" period where you could do whatever you wanted on your broom within limits-but never again would it be on the pitch. It was a depressing thought.  
  
"Harry! How come you haven't changed?" asked Seamus. He'd taken over as a Chaser when the girls had left.  
  
Harry swallowed. "I've an announcement to make. I'll let you all know when everyone's out here."  
  
Seamus gave him a funny look, but shrugged and began to stretch out in preparation for the day's practice.  
  
Over the next five minutes the remainder of the team filed in. Soon, they were all filed in, and Harry landed in front of them.  
  
"All right guys. Listen up. I'm not in much mind to repeat it again, so I'll only say this once, and please, don't say anything until I'm finished."  
  
Harry could feel the heat of a dozen sets of eyes upon him.  
  
"Today will be my last practice. Last night Malfoy and I got into an argument, things got ugly, and I'm lucky I haven't had my wand broken. I know that the timing couldn't be worse, but you'll have to do the best you can without me. I'm sure that Seamus will do a good job of leading you guys. He knows all my plays.I'll do what I can outside of practice.but I'm not allowed onto the pitch again after today. I'm sorry."  
  
Faces went from shock, to disbelief, to anger in a matter of seconds. So many people tried to talk at once that he couldn't even tell who was yelling at him.  
  
"How could you, Harry?"  
  
"Couldn't you have waited until after the match against Slytherin?"  
  
"Bloody hell!"  
  
Harry didn't want to deal with it now. He couldn't. He picked up his broom and left the pitch.  
  
* * * Breakfast was a torturous affair. Word had quickly spread throughout the Great Hall that Harry could no longer play Quidditch, and the glares that Harry got from the Slytherin table told him that they knew about what had happened to Draco.  
  
Pockets of conversation surrounded Harry, but few seemed willing to actually talk to him. Harry could only stand it as long it had taken him to wolf down some eggs and dry toast. Getting up off the bench, he looked up at Methos, who smiled at him sadly. He wasn't sure if Methos was still mad at him or not, but he wasn't quite ready to talk to him again either.  
  
He weakly smiled back and began to leave, when he felt Hermione tugging on his sleeve.  
  
"You're not leaving without me. I think you need someone to talk to, and I'm not going to sit here and watch you sulk the rest of the school year away."  
  
"All right." He forced a smile. "Let's head off towards potions then. We can talk when we get to the dungeons."  
  
"Let me grab my things." She turned around and picked up her books, giving Ron a glare and hissing at him to shut his mouth before he made things worse. She caught up to him a few paces later, and they made the trip in relative silence. When they reached their destination a few minutes later, they went inside and took a bench together.  
  
"So what happened yesterday, Harry?"  
  
"Which thing are you talking about? Adam or Draco?"  
  
She shrugged. "Whichever you want to talk about first." The Mudblood comment still stung, but seeing her friend in such great distress made a comment about her heritage seem rather insignificant.  
  
"I had.words.last night with Adam over what he said to you." He almost laughed. He knew he didn't do any of the talking; he only lay there on the stone floors bleeding to death while Adam told him he was a fool. Yes, that was really telling it to Adam. "And after that, I tried to go back to the common room, but Draco stopped me. I told him to leave me alone, to just let me go. And he wouldn't. He made a comment about my father. I snapped, and he went flying into the wall and now lies in the infirmary with a concussion and at least half of the school won't talk to me, and most of them probably want my head on a stick for one reason or another." He stopped himself before he became too much more hysterical. He knew he needed to snap out of this, but he couldn't. The only people he could talk to about why he was all riled up were the ones that he didn't particularly feel like talking to.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry."  
  
He muttered his thanks. He knew that she was sincere, but that didn't console him very much.  
  
"Why don't you spend your free afternoons in the library with me? We'll do homework and review for the N.E.W.T.s, they aren't that far off now, you know."  
  
Although studying wasn't his idea of a good time, it would at least help him take his mind off of Quidditch. "If Ron doesn't mind." He didn't want to go to the library only to have Ron glare at him.  
  
"Ron won't mind," she declared.  
  
He smiled. Her boyfriend was smitten with her, and was quite willing to do whatever she wanted. Hermione though, wasn't nearly selfish enough to try and take advantage of it-but when she did, something good always came out of it.  
  
"Thanks, Hermoine."  
  
She smiled and soon the rest of the class began to file into the room. It was a strangely silent affair. Slytherins glared, but only whispered their insults, apparently not willing to try Harry's temper. The Gryffindors talked quietly around Harry. Harry rolled his eyes and started to doodle on a scrap piece of paper. Soon enough, the heavy doors to the classroom opened and Snape walked in, robes trailing impressively behind.  
  
Walking to the front of the classroom, he noted that it took even less time then usual for them to stop talking, he smiled slightly and snidely said, "It appears that Mr. Potter's attack has managed to make you keep your mouths shut. How beneficial. Might I suggest that you let last night be a warning to you all that if Mr. Potter warns you to back off, you should heed his advice? We wouldn't want to overtax Madam Pomfrey, now would we?"  
  
Harry glared at Snape.  
  
Snape sneered back and turned around to write the lesson on the chalkboard. As he wrote, Harry noticed an odd blue marking on Snape's left wrist. Harry frowned. He took a chance and whispered to Hermoine, "See that?"  
  
"Mr. Potter! One would think that after last night you'd be better behaved. Five points from Gryffindor!"  
  
Harry slouched back on his stool and quietly sat taking notes the rest of the period, and thankfully was spared from losing any more points; he never was able to see the mysterious marking again. Disappointed, he made a mental to note to find out what it was the next chance he got.  
  
* * * Harry Potter was surprisingly effective at curses today. Methos had been trying to teach him this one for days, but there was always something lacking, something that caused the spell to misfire. But today, his first attempt went off with deadly accuracy.  
  
Perhaps the kid's anger was good for something, Methos mused. Of course, he'd have to do his best to try and teach that mixing anger and magic was a bad thing, if to appease Dumbledore for no other reason. Personally, as long as he could cast the spell reliably, that was all that Methos cared about.  
  
He took a glance over at Snape, the Watcher tattoo standing out against the pale skin. He'd come into the room a few minutes ago, citing a desire to see his charge practice. Methos found no reason to deny him his request, especially since this was part of Harry's "detention."  
  
"Getting better, Harry. Now try calming yourself a bit. Forget about your classmates, forget about Draco, and forget about what happened last night. Just focus and try to cast as distant from your anger as you can possibly get."  
  
Harry just nodded, repaired the vase and began the exercise again, this time failing miserably.  
  
"What exactly did happen last night that has made Mr. Potter suddenly so cold to you, Methos?" Given the rush to take care of Draco, he hadn't been able to pry out the whole story of what exactly had made Harry so angry.  
  
"What happened last night is strictly between Harry and myself. If you want to find out, you'll have to ask him. Excuse me," Methos returned to Harry's side, and began walking the young wizard through the exercise again.  
  
Snape hadn't expected an answer anyway. He stood watching the two Immortals, rather impressed with Methos' patience and Harry's desire to learn. As time passed, more and more of Harry's anger began to melt away, as he lost himself in the work.  
  
Twenty minutes later, a knock interrupted their practice.  
  
"Enter," Methos called out distractedly. Although no know knew what Methos was teaching Harry, the lessons were hardly a secret.  
  
An arrogant blond man walked into the room, very cocky and self-assured.  
  
"Ah, Severus. Dumbledore told me you'd be here."  
  
He nodded in acknowledgement, yet didn't take his eyes off of Harry. "Lucius."  
  
"Why are you in here watching that boy that attacked my son?" Lucius' voice managed to convey both genuine curiosity and disdain.  
  
"I am merely supervising a part of Mr. Potter's detention, and really Lucius, we both knew that this was bound to happen sooner or later. You're just upset because Draco didn't win the confrontation."  
  
Lucius' lip curled in a growl.  
  
There was a loud crash on the other side of the room as the vase shattered into a multitude of tiny fragments.  
  
Harry was obviously angry again.  
  
Methos turned around. "Look, gentlemen, can you take this conversation outside? Mr. Malfoy, unless you'd like to see yourself on the receiving end of the same curse that hit your son, I'd suggest you leave."  
  
Lucius sneered. Not many men had the balls to speak to him like that. He was quite looking forward to crushing this new opponent. "Considering I could still push to have your charge expelled, I should think you'd be more polite."  
  
Methos strode forward, finding himself irked with this man. "Your threats are empty, Mr. Malfoy. Your influence is not what it once was, and from what little I've seen of your son in the past weeks that there are a great deal of people who probably would cheer if they heard of what happened."  
  
Lucius was about to retort, but paused. That face, that nose. It belonged to the man whose portrait hung above all others in the Malfoy portrait gallery. Lucius Malfoy recognized the wizard that all Malfoy's inspired to be.  
  
"Salazar Slytherin." It wasn't a question.  
  
Methos sighed, "Huzzah, you found me, congratulations, if you tell anyone I'll hex you six ways until next Sunday, each one more painful and obscure then the last."  
  
Methos did not expect Lucius to drop to one knee.  
  
"Of course, my Lord. If you demand secrecy, I will take it to my grave."  
  
Methos looked at Harry. "Are all Slytherins this way?"  
  
Harry nodded, suddenly looking quite amused by the whole affair. "Pretty much. You're a god to them."  
  
"Wonderful. Just bloody wonderful." Methos shook his head. Some days, he regretted that he let MacLeod kill Kronos. Riding with the Horsemen again would have been so much simpler then the ever-increasing insanity that he was currently experiencing.  
  
* * * Duncan MacLeod was confused. This wasn't a particularly new emotion; he had tended to be a least little lost since he'd gotten to Hogwarts. This evening however, his bewilderment reached new levels.  
  
Although Harry had been quite grouchy the last time Duncan had seemed him, this evening he was positively joyful, gleefully reciting how Lucius had taken to following Methos like an idol; despite threats and minor hexes and how Draco refused to leave the infirmary due to his father's embarrassing behavior. Exactly why Harry found the situation with the Malfoys just so entertaining eluded Duncan, so he wrote it off to the long standing rivalry between Harry and the blond boy.  
  
Methos himself had come in the midst of their practice looking rather harassed and stressed.  
  
"Have you seen Lucius?"  
  
The younger Immortals shook their heads.  
  
"Excellent. Great! Look. I'm going to try and sneak down to my room for some peace and quiet. If you see him come by do me a favor and don't tell him you saw me. Even better, point him in the other direction! He's worse then a lost puppy. He's like.he's like the toilet paper on your shoe that you can't get rid of no matter how hard you try. If he doesn't leave me alone, I'm going to go mad!" Methos pushed back his hair, pausing to take a much-needed breath.  
  
Duncan thought that Methos probably already had lost it, but hadn't realized it yet. He didn't dare say anything though, and watched as Methos left, carefully looking both ways before setting out on his quest.  
  
Much to Duncan's astonishment, when Lucius came by the room ten minutes later looking for Methos, Harry rather gleefully told Lucius where he'd gone.  
  
Duncan did a rather good impression of a fish, Harry thought.  
  
"But he told you not to tell!"  
  
"Let's just say that with this, we're even."  
  
Duncan looked at Harry with a concerned look, but let it go; if this is what it took for the boy to put last night behind him then he could live with that.  
  
But he decided he was rather tired of being confused, and as soon as he sent Harry back to Gryffindor Tower for the night, he headed to the one wizard in the school he thought might have a clue as to what the hell was going on.  
  
Severus Snape.  
  
* * *  
  
As Duncan walked the corridor to Severus' chambers, he noticed a heavy thumping coming from the end of the hallway where Methos' chamber was. He vaguely hoped that Lucius was still alive.  
  
He knocked on the door, and didn't wait long before the smoky baritone commanded Duncan to identify himself.  
  
"It's Duncan."  
  
The door opened. "Good evening, Mr. MacLeod. What brings you to my chambers this evening?" There was a rather loud thud made Duncan wince. "They do seem to be getting along rather famously tonight, don't they?" Snape smirked. "Brandy?"  
  
Duncan settled himself into one of the armchairs. "Yeah. That'd be great. I think I'll need it too. So you don't mind this.whatever this is that's going on?"  
  
Snape laughed. "Mind it? I find it quite amusing. It takes a special person to rob Lucius of his dignity like that, and to find Slytherin so.harassed, it's reassuring in it's own way." He handed Duncan the snifter.  
  
"Just like Harry," Duncan muttered into his glass.  
  
Snape stilled. "What'd you say?"  
  
Duncan snickered, "Just thinking about how both you and Harry seem to be enjoying Methos' predicament." He sobered up a bit. "Look, do you know what's going on here? The last twelve hours.they've been just nuts. What on earth is so special about Methos that Lucius would chase him the way that he is?"  
  
The wizard sighed. "This might take a while. Remember when I began telling you what happened to me my first year?"  
  
Duncan nodded.  
  
"Perhaps to best understand things now, you should hear the rest. Before I begin though, you need to remember that times were different. The Church held sway over all Muggles great and small; and I'm sure I don't need to tell you what their status on witchcraft and magic was."  
  
Duncan shook his head.  
  
"Because he knew that the Muggle-borns would be hesitant to practice magic, he wanted to keep them out of Hogwarts, but he was over ruled. It wasn't long before it started to become obvious to everyone that Slytherin had been right-those few who had chosen to accept the offer of an invitation did little magic they were so afraid of it, and what magic they did cast was so weak as to be almost pointless. And even though I had joined them not to long into term, it was plain to see that he was getting frustrated with them all.  
  
"About a month had passed since I first arrived at Hogwarts, my Latin was growing stronger and stronger every day, and I began to bond with the other purebloods-it was perhaps even easier then it was in our own time; back then there really was a noticeable difference between the purebloods and the Muggle-born." Snape leaned back in his chair; and for a few seconds the only sounds was the crackling fire.  
  
"For example, I remember one Charms lesson before an exam. We were supposed to be able to send a fake manuscript flying across the chamber, tumbling neatly end over end-nothing overly taxing for a first year if you properly apply yourself-I had mastered this long ago, and could it in my sleep. I still remember sending my book around the room, occasionally dive bombing some of the Gryffindors." He smiled to himself, "But it seems that I was the exception, not the rule. My pureblooded classmates got the hang of things quick enough, but the Muggle-borns?" He snorted. "The Muggle-borns were a joke. Three weeks after I arrived, probably eight weeks since term began and some of them could barely even get the stupid thing off the table! And it wasn't for a lack of power-you yourself are still a weak Wizard, from what Methos tells me you are still too young to have any real strength-yet you can and have done what was being asked of a bunch of eleven year olds. No, the problem was that they did not want to do it. They were afraid of the magic. They were afraid of their mythical god; that they would be struck down if they attempted it, or that they would go to hell for it."  
  
"But they were trying though?" Duncan asked.  
  
Snape nodded. "Oh they made a nominal effort. Methos had quickly grown tired of what he considered to be foolish behavior and had begun to punish them for it, in the forms of extra chores. Some of the students had garnered so much extra work they barely had any time for homework, let alone sleep."  
  
Incredulously, Duncan asked, "And he got away with this?"  
  
"From what I could tell, he did. He couldn't get rid of the students out right-so this was his method of trying to encourage them to drop out. He did not want to devote his energies to unwilling disciples. Magic is draining, Mr. MacLeod. You don't waste it if you don't have to."  
  
Duncan nodded. "You said that this gap made it easier for you to fit in with the other purebloods?"  
  
Snape took a sip of his own drink. "It did. I was clearly the most powerful student there-my father placed a high value on my education, and I had received a quite thorough one before I ever stepped foot in Hogwarts-in any time. Because I had power, and because I had intelligence, I earned myself Slytherin's favor. As long as I was discreet about my activities I was allowed free reign; whether that applied to potions experimentation or hexing someone he, didn't care. Purebloods are attracted to power. I had it. I was. popular. I didn't discourage it either. In this strange new world I needed all the help I could get; and for the most part my classmates were likeable people."  
  
"So it was about power then?"  
  
"Always, Mr. MacLeod. Slytherins are nothing if not survivors. We go with the winner, and the winner often is powerful. At that point in time, the Muggle-borns had none because they chose not to use it. They were seen as weak, as cowards. Even when it became abundantly obvious that the only smiting that would occur would be coming from their Charms professor and not from any god, they still did not abandon their cowardice."  
  
Duncan raised his eyebrows. Knowing Methos as he did now made it simple to spot the obvious influence he'd had on the wizard before him. "So what happened then, surely the other professors objected to such treatment?"  
  
"I cannot tell you for certain; although if anything did occur it would have to have been after we found the right combination to return me home- one student did finally quit in frustration if I remember correctly."  
  
Duncan frowned. "This still doesn't explain why Lucius follows Methos the way he is."  
  
Snape smirked slightly. "I'm getting to that. Methos never did let up on Muggle-borns; if anything he only got harsher as time progressed and the situation did not improve. It was self-defeating, really. The new students would hear of the fearsome Charms professor who did not like them; he would use the fear against them, and at least one or two would drop out. Time passed, tensions escalated as did Slytherin's reputation for wanting only purebloods at Hogwarts-not entirely accurate as he had nothing against half- bloods-but not one he fought either, as he was obviously disgruntled by the whole affair. Of course, propaganda by future leaders of Slytherin House would fail to mention why he disliked them in the first place; instead perverting the tale to one that showed pureblood superiority. Today he is seen as the ultimate crusader for purity of blood, a sentiment that old families like the Malfoys appreciate and embrace.  
  
"Everything that Lucius was, all the values and morals taught to him by his parents have been shaped by Salazar Slytherin. For him to meet the man that could possibly unseat Voldemort-a man who even Voldemort looks up to as a god-is an opportunity for him like you cannot understand. Lucius wants power. He wants knowledge. He wants the things that only wizards like Methos can give him. If he must debase himself for a few days to get what he wants, the blow to his dignity will be worth it." The smirked turned into a full-fledged grin. "Besides. Lucius always did have a crush on Slytherin."  
  
Duncan downed the rest of his drink in one gulp.  
  
"Thanks, Severus, for the brandy." He stood and headed for the door.  
  
"Have a good night, Mr. MacLeod." Duncan nodded, and headed out the hallway, walking quickly towards Methos' chambers. Once there, he looked at the portrait engaged in a rather trashy looking novel, if the couple on the cover were any indication.  
  
"Is Methos in?" Duncan inquired. He had learned that it was often quicker to ask, then to knock.  
  
The lady looked up. "No, Mr. MacLeod, he isn't. He was here briefly, but left again. I believe I heard his companion mention Hogsmeade."  
  
Duncan groaned inwardly. "Thank you." He turned, and retired to his room, the first signs of a headache coming onto him. Tomorrow was not going to be pleasant.  
  
* * * Duncan caught up with Methos at breakfast the following morning. As soon as he sat down, a plate of food appeared before him. He turned and looked at Methos who was engrossed in the Daily Prophet.  
  
"We need to talk."  
  
Methos took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving the paper. "Must we? My horoscope says that I mustn't have a serious discussions on Wednesdays because Leo's will blame me for things that appear more sinister then they really are."  
  
"Methos." There was a note of warning in Duncan's voice.  
  
Methos sighed. "Fine. We'll talk, after breakfast. Rather, I will talk, you will stand there and listen, not interrupt me. I'm really not in the mood to deal with a lecture from you today."  
  
Snape's amused voice entered the conversation. "Would you be in need of a potion to rid you of your hangover? I'll say, I haven't seen Lucius that drunk.ever."  
  
Methos winced. "Yes, Severus. That would be most welcome."  
  
"I've a class after breakfast, but if you follow me down to the dungeons I'll stop by my room and grab you a bottle before I attend the little hellions."  
  
"Severus!" McGonagall reprimanded.  
  
"Students," Snape corrected.  
  
Methos snickered, then immediately regretted the pain that it caused. Above him, rain began to fall from the enchanted ceiling.  
  
"Perfect," Methos muttered. "Just bloody perfect."  
  
Snape snorted in agreement and turned to finish his breakfast, gearing himself up for yet another taxing day with brain-dead students.  
  
* * * The door on Duncan's suite clicked shut, and he cast the silencing spell that Methos had taught him. He put his wand away, and leaned against the desk. "You wanted to talk, Methos. So talk."  
  
Methos mocked bowed. "Yes, sir, Your Majesty. It's like this. Lucius came down to my quarters last night, and offered to get me drinks in a small club he knew in Hogsmeade. I was tired of being chased, and you know the size of my tab at Joe's, I'm not one to pass up someone else picking up the tab."  
  
Duncan snorted.  
  
"So I used the opportunity to learn, MacLeod. We talked about politics. Current events. What the Dark Lord was up to; the reasons behind his last few raids, a few still imperfect potions. As more alcohol raced through our veins we started to just bullshit. Shared idle gossip about personal at the school and the Ministry. What the world was like when Hogwarts was founded. Soon enough, it was closing time. He considered himself too drunk to Apparate-a Malfoy would rather be dead then caught getting splinched-and for various reasons Malfoy Manor isn't attached to the Floo Network. So he walked back to Hogwarts with me, and fell asleep on the bed with me. That's it. He's still sleeping the last I saw."  
  
"YOU SLEPT WITH HIM!"  
  
"Oh, shut up, Duncan! Even that drunk, Malfoy's dignity wouldn't let him sleep on the couch; and it's not like I've haven't had to share my bed with foul-smelling and lice-ridden people. I'll take a drunken wizard over them any day. Especially when I've got their wand."  
  
MacLeod's temper simmered, just waiting for the right provocation to boil over. Tensely, he finally asked, "Why did he trust you with information about Voldemort."  
  
"Malfoy wants power, MacLeod. I could give it to him. I could be his teacher, or a gift to Voldemort, or even better, a tool against Voldemort, the one that finally kills him letting Lucius slip into place. Telling me what he knew was quite deliberate, he wanted to show me that he trusted me- a rare privilege I'm sure."  
  
"Are you going to help him?"  
  
Methos looked at Duncan in shock, then shook his head, muttering, "Idiot." Speaking louder, he said, "If I wanted to rule the world, I would have never left you that matchbook in Romania. I would have let you try and chase us across the globe as we sent the world into a full-fledged panic when Kronos' new virus became the most potent pandemic since the days of the Bubonic Plague."  
  
Duncan's fists clenched, to stop him from punching Methos. "Then are you going to tell Dumbledore what you know?"  
  
Methos walked towards the door. "No. I'm not. I'm going to milk Lucius' confidence for all that its worth. If I told Dumbledore now, I'd never learn anything again; he'd see to that by telling his Auror friends and stopping things before they happened. Look, MacLeod, I've never cheated on you once since we started to date, where as I know you've slept with more than one or two female Immortals when you've gotten plastered. I've forgiven you for that; certainly you can forgive me for not sleeping around on you. When you've calmed down a bit and are thinking a bit more rationally, you're welcome to find me to talk. Until then, Highlander." Methos tipped an imaginary hat and left the room.  
  
Duncan cursed as his fist came barreling down on the heavy desk. "Damn it." 


	6. Under the Color of Authority

5. Under the Color of Authority  
  
"I say he's a Gryffindor. That nobility streak of his is so wide that it completely engulfs Ron's, Hermione and mine by a kilometer."  
  
Snape considered it. "Hufflepuff. The man's a walking emotional time bomb. Just the slightest provocation will set him off. I mean, look at him now." Snape pointed to where Duncan was pummeling a defenseless punching bag.  
  
"True, but he actually confronted Methos about him 'sleeping' with Lucius Malfoy. That not only takes bollocks, but a healthy sense of Gryffindor blindness. Even I knew that Methos would never sleep with him and I've only known him for a few weeks.  
  
"And how do you know this, Mr. Potter?"  
  
"It's Lucius Malfoy," Harry explained in a way that said that should explain it all. "He may be attractive, but he's still a git."  
  
Snape snorted. "You are a Gryffindor. Malfoy could seduce anyone he wants. By the time you've realized what's happened, it's naturally already too late."  
  
"But Methos is Slytherin. You can't out Slytherin the person himself. Especially when said person is at least a thousand years old."  
  
Snape considered. "You may have a point. Although why you'd want to claim him a Housemate of yours still eludes me."  
  
Duncan turned to face them, exasperation written all over his face. "If you two are going are going to stand there and insult me, could you at least do it out of my hearing?"  
  
Harry suddenly felt guilty, and it didn't slip by Snape either. "Of course, Duncan. I've got other ways to occupy Mr. Potter while you practice."  
  
"But I'm supposed to practice my magic now, and I've got an exam in History of Magic to study for tonight," Harry protested.  
  
"Very well then, I'll supervise you while you work. I'm familiar with the spells that Methos has been teaching you."  
  
Harry gave Duncan a pleading looking for help. Duncan, who had gone back to his own work out, didn't notice.  
  
"Oh, all right," Harry muttered.  
  
"It's nice to see you so enthusiastic, Potter."  
  
Harry scowled.  
  
Snape laughed.  
  
Gryffindor baiting would always be fun.  
  
* * * Dumbledore quickly learned that sneaking up on Methos with a sword was a bad idea; of course, it was hard to do much of anything with a sharp blade cutting into your neck.  
  
"I wouldn't move for your wand either, Dumbledore, not until you tell me why you decided to creep up behind me."  
  
"I merely wanted to observe, Mr. Methos. I promise I won't do anything rash."  
  
Methos let down his Ivanhoe. "In other circumstances, moves like that could get you killed."  
  
"You wouldn't kill me," Dumbledore said confidently.  
  
Methos swung his sword up so it rested on his shoulder blade. "That's a dangerous assumption to make."  
  
"But it is mine to make."  
  
Methos circled the elderly wizard. "True. But I'm sure you made this visit for a reason, so why not get down to it?"  
  
"Mr. MacLeod made a visit to me not too long ago."  
  
Methos snorted. "Did he? Why am I not surprised?"  
  
"So you do have information then?"  
  
He began to circle Dumbledore. "Perhaps I do. Perhaps I said that just to get his goat. It certainly seemed to work."  
  
"If you do, I would advise that you share it." His glare was as steady as Methos', unwilling to blink, unwilling to yield.  
  
"Or what? You'll sic the Aurors on me?"  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"You do realize that if you try that, MacLeod, Harry and I will be gone before they even get here."  
  
Dumbledore stiffened. "That would be kidnapping."  
  
"Perhaps, but it's in the boy's best interest. I refuse to leave him here. You can't teach him anything else. Not sword work, not spell work. A piece of paper that says he passed his N.E.W.T.s is hardly going to keep his head on his shoulders, nor will it defeat Voldemort. And that is what this is all about, isn't it? The defeat of Voldemort?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"Have you ever read Machiavelli?"  
  
"No, I haven't."  
  
"Italian political philosopher. The ends justify the means. Bribe, threaten, kill your competitors-it's all fair game as long as you get what you aimed for. In his case, it was becoming the ruler of a territory. In our case, it's the demise of Voldemort."  
  
"But people shouldn't die if they don't have to."  
  
Methos shrugged. "Perhaps not. But who cares what we'd do. It's all about Harry, isn't it? You've done an admirable job of bending himself to your will. But don't worry. I'll break through all those idiotic Gryffindor tendencies of yours. He's becoming quite the good little Slytherin, isn't he?"  
  
Dumbledore stiffened slightly. "I'm sure that Mr. Potter will continue to do me-do the wizarding world proud, in both his behavior and his victories."  
  
"Well that's grand. Is there anything else?"  
  
Dumbledore slowly shook his head and started to head for the door. Just as he reached the hallway, he turned and said, "Seeing as I cannot make you do anything you do not wish to, I just hope that you make the right decisions, Mr. Pierson. Good day."  
  
Methos watched the Headmaster leave, then shook his head. Gryffindors. Some things never changed, even after a thousand years. Only a shame he couldn't be quite so direct with Dumbledore, as he had once been with Gryffindor.  
  
* * * 1013 CE  
  
An adder slithered around Slytherin's feet; he'd been practicing with them recently, partially to keep his skills up, a little because it frightened others.  
  
"I'm telling you, Godric, enough is enough! For thirty years I have put up with batch after batch of useless Muggle-borns. Every year it's the exact same thing. Students afraid of their wands, of the stairs that move, of their classmates! It's a wonder we haven't had one die of fright on the first night!"  
  
"That still does not give you an excuse to bully them, Salazar!"  
  
"Who said I was bullying them?" He bent down and picked up the snake. He muttered something to the snake.  
  
"Your pet terrifies them! It's unnatural."  
  
"Oh please, Godric. Not this tired argument again. Never once have any of my pets done a lick of harm to anyone. I can't help if people are scared when they see me conversing with her. And it's hardly unnatural either and we both know it. Dare I say that you're jealous you're not as gifted?"  
  
Gryffindor scowled. "Of course I'm not! Who'd want to be able to talk to snakes? Rather useless gift if you ask me. And we both know that you choose to use your gift when the more.impressionable students are around."  
  
"Really, Godric, you're getting paranoid in your old age! You know I'd never hurt the children."  
  
Godric snorted. "I'm not that much older then you are. Some of those Charms you teach are rather questionable.  
  
Slytherin snickered. If only he knew. "The Charms I teach are perfectly legal, and useful as well."  
  
"But they injure the students if they aren't performed correctly!"  
  
"Think of as an incentive to perform well." The smirk on Slytherin's face was growing more dangerous by the second.  
  
Godric stiffened and looked Slytherin straight in the eye. "I can't abide this in my school, Slytherin. Either you stop speaking Parseltongue in front of the students, and stop teaching the dangerous Charms, or else I'll be forced to make you leave Hogwarts."  
  
Slytherin laughed menacingly. "Your school? Is that right? Do you really think you can bully me around like some new Hufflepuff?" Slytherin's eyes narrowed. Although he had considered moving on, it wasn't going to happen merely because Gryffindor wished it so.  
  
Sensing danger, Gryffindor reached for his own wand, but found it flying to the edge of the room as Slytherin's Expelliarmus hit him full on. Seconds later, he found himself on the floor unable to move, paralyzed by a spell he'd never heard of. He moaned as his body convulsed in agony, leaving him panting on the floor.  
  
"Never threaten me, Gryffindor. You cannot hope to win. I will continue to do what I wish, and if you're wise you'll let me do so." He sneered as Gryffindor went into another round of spasms. "The spell will wear off in an hour or so," Slytherin said conversationally. "Don't worry; I'll cover your class for you. Oh, and I'll be sure to lock the door. Wouldn't want anyone finding you, would we?" With a laugh, Slytherin left the room, locking it and cast a quick Silencing charm so no one could hear Gryffindor's moans.  
  
Gryffindor never did threaten him again.  
  
* * * 1998 CE  
  
Harry found Professor McGonagall waiting for him at the base of the gargoyle statue. In a stern voice she said, "Go right on up, Harry, and when you get back, we need to talk."  
  
He smiled weakly. "Thanks." As he'd gotten older, he'd found these meetings harder and harder to handle. Rarely did they have good news, and it had become quite apparent that Methos and Dumbledore didn't get along. He hoped that whatever had last happened between the two men hadn't been so bad that Dumbledore was going to send his teacher away.  
  
"Hello, Harry. Gum drop?" Dumbledore had taken to making himself a miniature sculpture of Fawkes made completely of the confection. It was interesting to look at, but Harry couldn't be quite sure just how old the leftover sweets were.  
  
"No, thank you sir. Is everything all right?"  
  
"I just wanted to check up on how you were doing. How are things going in Gryffindor?"  
  
"There not bad, but not great either. They blame me for the loss to Slytherin." The game yesterday had been brutal, between the lack of practice time and the general demoralization of losing their Captain, Draco had been able to catch the Snitch rather quickly, resulting in an 180-20 loss, the worst defeat in years.  
  
"I'm sure they'll come around, Harry. They never seem to stay angry at you for long."  
  
Harry snorted to himself. The affair over his being a possible Heir of Slytherin lasted months. He wondered what Dumbledore considered to be "long." He forced a smile. "I'm sure you're right, sir."  
  
"And how are your extra studies going?"  
  
"Quite well, sir. Learning to fight is hard, but Duncan makes it manageable. Only yesterday he told me how pleased he was with my progress." He smiled happily. Training with Duncan was very difficult and left him rather sore afterwards, but the constant praise and reassuring that he was doing well for someone with so little experience.  
  
"And with Adam?"  
  
"Excellent, sir. Egyptian is hard to learn, but I find it rather fascinating."  
  
"You are learning to control the magics better then?"  
  
He nodded. "It's difficult.and it seems that right now I fail more often then not, but I'm determined to learn, sir. Voldemort won't stand a chance if I can learn this stuff."  
  
Dumbledore nodded politely. "Quite. Listen, Harry, I've been in contact with Sirius."  
  
Harry perked up. "You have? Is he all right? He's safe isn't he? Is there any chance that he'll be coming to visit?"  
  
He looked sympathetically at the boy. "Don't worry, Harry! Your godfather is quite safe and in one piece. As for coming for a visit.I'm afraid not. Adam said he didn't want you to be distracted."  
  
Harry's elation quickly turned into confusion. "But." the words died out on his lips. He didn't think that flat out calling Dumbledore a liar would be a healthy move.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry."  
  
"Thanks.is that all sir?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "I won't keep you any longer. Minerva would like to speak to you. Remember Harry, that I'm here anytime you wish to talk."  
  
Harry nodded and headed out to the staircase. Had Methos been right about Dumbledore all along? It was a troubling thought.  
  
* * *  
  
McGonagall was waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase. "Come with me, Potter," she ordered in that clipped tone that never seemed to bode well for anyone.  
  
She lead him to her office near Gryffindor tower, never looking back, never saying a word to him the entire walk. He distinctly felt like he was being marched to his doom.  
  
As soon as they were in her office, he quickly took a chair upon her command.  
  
"Did you see that Quidditch match, Potter? It was a disgrace!"  
  
"Yes, Ma'am."  
  
"One that could have been prevented."  
  
Harry groaned at the thought of yet another lecture about the Draco Incident. "Yes Ma'am."  
  
She shook her head. "If it weren't for those tutors of yours, I'd say that you'd still be out on the pitch and we would have won."  
  
"You're probably right, Ma'am." Why mention that he probably would have attacked Draco sooner or later? If he hadn't used one of the spells Methos had taught him, he would have used something else.  
  
"I don't like how they seem to be influencing you, Potter. First that incident with Draco, and now your grades are slipping."  
  
"Not really, Ma'am. I mean, I've never been excellent at Transfigurations, and obviously this is the hardest they've ever been. Adam helps me with my Charms homework and just the other day Professor Flitwick said he was impressed at how much I'd improved. Even my Potions marks are going up because Snape tutors me when Duncan and Adam get tied up."  
  
Her eyes narrowed a bit. "While I can't be sure why Severus suddenly has taken such an interest in you. I'll warn you Mr. Potter, you'd better bring your Transfiguration marks up. If you don't, there's a risk that you'll fail your Transfiguration N.E.W.T"  
  
Harry became utterly confused. "But Professor, my grades aren't even that bad!"  
  
"Potter, your grade means nothing to the examiner. If they don't think that your essay is acceptable for your age than you will not pass. The better you do now, the greater the chance that you will produce something acceptable when the time comes."  
  
"I'll try and do better, Professor," he said dejectedly.  
  
"Excellent. Run along. Remember, you owe me an essay in two days. I expect it to be perfect."  
  
He stood up and woodenly said, "Yes, Ma'am," before leaving her office.  
  
* * *  
  
"-And then Dumbledore told me that Sirius couldn't come for a visit because Adam wouldn't let him."  
  
Ron seemed particularly outraged, still not a fan of Adam over the "Mudblood" incident-one that was never fully resolved to his liking. "I can't believe that git! He should know how important Sirius is to you, Harry!"  
  
"But Adam wants me to see Sirius, guys. He wouldn't do such a thing, I just know it!"  
  
"But why would Dumbledore lie to you, Harry?" It had to be Granger. "He's been nothing but helpful to you since your first year."  
  
"Believe me, Hermione, I'm trying to figure that out for myself."  
  
They started to move down the hallway towards the Gryffindor common room, when Harry felt the buzz of another Immortal. Although he suspected it to be Methos, the fact that whoever it was hadn't revealed himself gave Harry room to wonder.  
  
"Wait here a moment."  
  
"Harry?" asked Ron.  
  
Harry walked to where the two corridors met, pulling out his still invisible sword on the way. He knew it must have looked odd that he held his hands out in front of him, but he didn't care. He knew that an unfriendly Immortal wouldn't give him time to reach for his sword. When he saw Methos standing just beyond the junction of the two corridors, he relaxed and put his sword back. He started to say something, but Methos put a finger on his own lip indicating that Harry should be silent. Puzzled, Harry nonetheless obeyed the strange command and returned to his friends.  
  
"It was nothing. Must have heard something."  
  
Hermione asked rather good-naturedly, "It's not another Basilisk in the pipes, Harry?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and kept them moving.  
  
* * * Methos listened to Harry leave before turning around himself. As he listened to Harry, he couldn't believe what he was hearing-he never expected such an obvious manipulation attempt from Dumbledore.  
  
He had over-estimated the elder wizard.  
  
Pleased though he was that Harry was showing such care for his person, he was still too angry to care.  
  
Methos smiled. He knew exactly what he needed to do.  
  
* * * A day later, Snape dropped into the classroom while the Immortals were taking a break.  
  
"Good afternoon, gentlemen, Potter."  
  
Harry barely nodded in Snape's direction.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Duncan looked at Severus a little surprised. "You haven't heard? McGonagall is threatening that the N.E.W.T. examiner won't find Harry's essay 'acceptable,' whatever that means."  
  
Snape frowned ever so slightly. He'd seen Potter's marks only a few weeks ago at the end of term review meetings. They were far from failing, and indicated that he should be able to write more than well enough to pass with decent marks "Why?"  
  
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, sir. She just threatened m. I mean, she can't do that, can she?"  
  
"It is very suspicious indeed; I can never remember a time when Minerva stooped so low. If you like, I can discreetly inquire as to what's going on."  
  
Harry looked at Snape, concerned. Why was he willing to stand up for him? He didn't think that they disliked each other that much. He finally managed a surprised, "No, thank you sir, I'm in enough trouble as it is with her as it is. Somehow, I don't think you talking to her is going to help anything."  
  
Snape growled slightly, the stupid boy never knew what was best for him. "Then what would you like to see happen? There are many things you deserve Potter, but failing a class when there is no need for it is not one of them."  
  
"Perhaps you could tutor him, Severus?" asked Methos.  
  
"And what would I get as compensation for such selfless donation of my time, considering I already tutor him in Potions, not to mention the fact that I would have to refresh myself on the topics that will be covered on the N.E.W.T.S?"  
  
"My thanks?" Harry offered.  
  
Snape snorted. "I've got enough of those in the past few weeks to fulfill me for a few years."  
  
Harry fiddled around in his robes, muttering, "I'm sure I've got a Galleon or two in here somewhere."  
  
Snape hissed, "You impudent brat!"  
  
As Harry and Snape began to quarrel again, Duncan leaned over to Methos. "Do you know any lust potions? This is getting ridiculous."  
  
Methos snorted. "I almost had to resort to one just to get your attention. You were the King of Dense, MacLeod."  
  
"Hey!" Duncan protested.  
  
Methos snickered, and replied just a little too loudly, "Would they just kiss already? I don't particularly feel like spending the next century watching them figure out what's going on."  
  
Both Harry and Snape managed to glare at Methos at the exact same time.  
  
"I heard that." Harry wrinkled his nose. "And might I add, ew. I'd never kiss him."  
  
"Rest assured, Mr. Potter, the feeling is mutual," Snape replied with the scathing tone normally reserved for Neville after he'd botched another potion.  
  
Methos stood and walked towards the two young men. "Children, children! No need for such animosity."  
  
"I am not a child!" hissed Snape.  
  
Methos and Duncan shared a look and snickered. "When you're as old as we are, 35 is nothing."  
  
"Hrmph." Snape turned away.  
  
"Oh stop sulking, the both of you. Severus, you'll help out Harry, because you know it will make Minerva mad that you got his Transfiguration grade up."  
  
Snape curled his lip slightly.  
  
"But I don't want Professor McGonagall to know!" Harry protested.  
  
"What difference does it make, kid? She's got it out for you. You may as well prove to her that you can do it. There's nothing sweeter then unexpected triumph."  
  
Harry looked at Duncan. "I really don't have a choice in this, do I?"  
  
Duncan shrugged apologetically. "You'll get used to it. He loves to meddle."  
  
"And if it weren't for that meddling, your head would have separated from your body years ago."  
  
Duncan tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement. "Perhaps."  
  
"It's settled then." Snape grinned, baring teeth. "I'll tutor the boy and get to make Minerva have an aneurysm. Not a bad trade-off, if I do say so myself. Now get back to work, Potter. I expect you in the dungeons after dinner tonight for tutoring. Bring your Transfiguration work as well."  
  
Harry sighed. "Yes, sir."  
  
* * * The next two weeks passed quickly. His housemates did manage to calm down as work loads piled up as revision for N.E.W.T.s started in earnest on top of their normal class loads.  
  
Even Duncan and Methos had started to work Harry harder. Now that Duncan was convinced that Harry was well on the road to being able to fight and survive, he'd started to teach Harry a bit of martial arts. Trying to convince Duncan that Harry wouldn't ever really to know how to fight since he had his magic only resulted in an evil glare and a rather sore bum by the end of the first lesson.  
  
Methos had started giving him more research, insisting that he taught Harry all that he could with what knowledge Harry had, and that any more spells would require a through understanding of some rather obscure principles of magic that not even Snape could decipher.  
  
In fact, it was with a rather terrible headache from trying to decipher hieroglyphs that Methos found him.  
  
"Hey Harry! Come with me, would you? I'm in a bit of a rush, but I've got a surprise for you."  
  
"Can it possibly wait?" Harry asked as Methos grabbed his arm.  
  
"Nope. 'Fraid not. But I promise that you'll enjoy it. Now come on!" Methos grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him towards their practice room.  
  
"Why is it you're in such a hurry?" Harry queried.  
  
"I'm about to be late for lunch with Lucius. Your surprise arrived a bit later then expected."  
  
"Lucius?"  
  
"Well, got to keep up appearances and all. Pretend I'm still interested in Voldemort; perhaps find something that could likely fail anyone to pass on to Dumbledore if I'm feeling generous, and so on. Besides, he buys me beer."  
  
Methos could walk rather fast under the right incentive and the duo quickly arrived at the practice room.  
  
"Due to the nature of your gift, I'm going to lock you inside with it until I return. That might be in two hours, it might not be until midnight. I'm sure you won't mind. I've left you some food. Really must dash." He opened the door, and pushed Harry inside. "Have fun you two. Bye!" Methos shut the door and spell-locked it from the outside.  
  
Harry stared at the door. "Very, very weird."  
  
"You're telling me."  
  
Harry jumped at the oddly familiar voice. He hadn't expected the surprise to be an actual person. Turning around his face lit up, "Sirius!"  
  
Sirius walked up to his godson and embraced him tightly. "It's good to see you again, Harry. You're looking well."  
  
Harry smiled brightly back. "I've missed you!" He looked Sirius over. Over the past year or two he had really started to fill out, and finally started to look really healthy. Harry also noticed a glimmer in his eyes that he hadn't really seen before. He seemed happy. "You look great!"  
  
"I feel great. Especially now that I'm here."  
  
"Prepare to be here for a while. Adam's gone to get drunk with a friend. He's even locked us in."  
  
Sirius grinned. "Well then, all the more time to spend with my godson. I can't really complain about it."  
  
"You say that now, but what if you have to go the bathroom and we're still locked inside?"  
  
"I'm sure you'll find a suitable way to get vengeance on your teacher; with all the Marauder blood in you, I know you can do it."  
  
Harry laughed. "Thanks." His smile dimmed slightly. "What are you doing here? Dumbledore said that Adam didn't want you here?"  
  
Sirius frowned. "What are you talking about Harry? Dumbledore never said anything about you wanting to see me. Last time we talked it was after my last mission a month ago."  
  
"Are you sure about that?"  
  
"Why would I lie to you Harry?" Sirius said gently. "Dumbledore hasn't contacted me in quite a while. Then, about a week ago, I get a letter from Adam saying that you wished to see me. I had Remus do some asking around to see if Adam was who he said he was, and when he told me it was the truth I said yes, and here I am."  
  
Harry looked thoughtful, now wasn't really the time to dwell on Dumbledore, so he asked the next logical question. "How is he anyway?" Remus had a cottage in a fairly isolated Muggle village; Sirius had gone there to hide a little after Harry's seventh year started.  
  
"He's doing well, Harry. It's peaceful there. He enjoys it. He's opened a Muggle-style apothecary. Herbology is starting to take off among Muggles and he's making a decent profit."  
  
Harry looked surprised. "Herbs? Huh. Well, I guess he can't really sell lessons in how to stop Boggarts, can he?" He grinned as he remembered the image of Snape in a dress.  
  
Sirius smiled. "Unfortunately, no. Snape still brews the potion for him, but he's started to work on his potions again. He knows he doesn't have much talent for it, but he hopes to one day be good enough that he can brew Wolfsbane on his own, so he doesn't have to be dependant on Snape.""  
  
Harry snickered, and then told of Adam's suggestion about how he should kiss Snape, and Sirius made appropriate noises of disgust, suggesting that his teacher might have been a bit off his rocker. Harry assured him that his teacher was quite sane, and they talked the afternoon away until they heard the door unlock.  
  
"I hope you didn't talk too much about me behind my back," Adam quipped as Harry stood to great him.  
  
"Just a little," Harry grinned.  
  
"Not bad at all then. Ready to go, Sirius?"  
  
He gave Harry one last hug. "Yeah, I think so. You'd better write me soon, Harry."  
  
"I will. Promise."  
  
Methos walked to the door. "Stay here, Harry. I'm going to take him back out the way I brought him in, and I'd like it if at least one of the secret passages actually stayed that way," he teased.  
  
"I resent that!"  
  
"You poor thing," Methos mocked. He watched Sirius change forms, and then cast a temporary blindness spell so he couldn't find the passage either. "I'll be back in a few."  
  
Methos lead the dog out, carefully guiding it down the hallway through the passage until they were a safe distance from the castle. Removing the spell, Sirius transformed back to an adult.  
  
"Thank you for bringing me to see my godson," Sirius said as he shook Methos' hand.  
  
"It's not a problem. Harry should see his family. He does deserve it, just like anyone else."  
  
"Take care of Harry, I'd like to see him outlive me."  
  
Methos nodded. "I'll do my best." Leaving the Animagus behind, Methos returned to the castle, weaving his way through the passages much quicker then before, now that he didn't have to guide anyone through. He found Harry practicing his sword work, and nodded in appreciation.  
  
"Not bad. Now," Methos drew his Ivanhoe. "Fight me."  
  
Harry lasted longer then Methos had expected him to, and had even gotten a good cut in on his arm. It looked like Harry had gotten the upper hand, when Methos ducked out the way, pulled out his wand and hexed Harry.  
  
Placing the blade up against an immobile Harry's neck, Methos stated, "I win."  
  
Harry sulked as the curse was removed. "That's cheating!"  
  
Methos shook his head. "You only complain of that because you didn't think of it sooner."  
  
Harry conceded that Methos had a point. "It's still not fair though."  
  
"And when have I ever played fair?"  
  
Harry frowned.  
  
Methos laughed. "I thought so. Now why don't you go run along? I'm sure your friends have been desperately searching for you."  
  
Harry groaned. "I was supposed to go to Hogsmeade with Ron to check out Fred and George's new jokes."  
  
"Just make sure to keep an eye on anything any Weasley gives you then."  
  
Harry grinned. "Tell me about it. See you later, Adam." He left the room to find his friends, and Methos to spend the rest of the night with Duncan, making up for his lunch with Lucius.  
  
* * * Methos twiddled in the hall, waiting for Duncan to open the door for him.  
  
"Back so soon?" Duncan asked as he let Methos into his room. "I expected you later."  
  
"I got bored, so I made up an excuse and left." Methos commented, removing his robe and throwing it over the back of the desk chair. "Really, you have no idea just how boring pureblood politics can be. Or the Ministry for that matter. At least back in Rome they did fun things in the government, like assassinations."  
  
"Methos. You weren't *in* Rome when Julius Caesar died."  
  
"So? I'm just saying that hearing about that is more interesting then the latest investigation into the latest scandals involving cauldron thickness. Come to think of it, he's rather bored of it as well, judging from his latest scheme to drive Percy Weasley slowly insane."  
  
Duncan raised an eyebrow.  
  
Methos smirked "Who do you think keeps sending him the defective cauldrons?"  
  
Duncan snorted.  
  
Methos slid onto Duncan's lap. "So definitely don't have to worry. I'm yours." He kissed Duncan softly. "Trust me, okay? I'm not going to join the Dark Side of the Force or become the next Voldemort. I'm just doing this for the greater good."  
  
"Methos. The greater good would be telling Dumbledore what Voldemort's planning so innocents don't have to die."  
  
Methos rolled his eyes and moved off his partner. "Not you too. Look. If I tell Dumbledore, he tells the Aurors. The Aurors show up, wreck the party. Voldemort looks for what went wrong, and sooner or later he figures out that Lucius was involved. Once that happens, there will be a very dead Lucius on our hands and we lose access to Voldemort, and quite possibly the Grand Plan of his for his annual Hell raising."  
  
"Aren't you overreacting? I'm sure Dumbledore has other means of gaining information about Voldemort."  
  
"But none so highly placed. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. By trusting Lucius to important plans and making him responsible for successfully carrying them out means that he's got less time to work on his own plans. On the other hand, you take another spy who is still valued, but whose loyalty is questioned. He might know bits and pieces, but how much of that is being deliberately hand fed to Dumbledore, we'll never know. Some of it may be one hundred percent true. Some of it smoke and mirrors to cover up a more important operation going on that cannot be interfered with."  
  
Duncan sighed. "Okay. Fine. Fine. You're not going to share, and I'm obviously not going to win this argument."  
  
Methos grinned and shook his head. "No, you're not. That hasn't stopped you from trying it at least three times before."  
  
"Can you blame me for trying?"  
  
Methos shook his head. "I'd be worried if you didn't." He smirked. "You know, Severus and Harry have a bet going on what House you'd be in."  
  
"Do they now? What are they saying?"  
  
Methos draped himself into the chair opposite Duncan. "Let's see. They agree that you're not 'intellectual' enough to be in Ravenclaw, and that you show absolutely none of the features that make a good Slytherin. I happen to agree with both."  
  
"Hey! I object!"  
  
"It's true though."  
  
Duncan glared, and Methos raised his hands in surrender. "At any rate, Severus thinks you'd be a perfect Hufflepuff. Loyal to the end, makes lots of friends, and a bit of a gossip. You are rather up to date on Immortal activity."  
  
"I have to be." Duncan muttered.  
  
"Of course." Methos nodded. "Harry argues-and I agree-that you'd actually be a Gryffindor. You've got the bravery to the point of stupidity, charging into situations that could likely end up with you being dead. You are quite heroic though, and many of us wouldn't have our heads without you though." He stood up and walked over to Duncan. "No matter what you are though, you are one of a kind, Highlander, and you are mine." He kissed Duncan. "And I am yours, and don't you forget it."  
  
Duncan smiled. "I'll try not to."  
  
"Good boy." He smiled wickedly and leaned over to whisper in Duncan's ear. "Come with me to the bedroom. I learned something the other day that I just have to show you."  
  
Duncan rose and let himself be dragged off. "I may not be a Ravenclaw, but let it not be said that I'm not open to new information."  
  
Methos laughed. "Good, because you're not going to regret it." 


	7. Warmonger

6. Warmonger  
  
Harry walked the empty corridors back to Gryffindor tower, repeating the forms Methos had taught him, desperately trying to commit them to memory so that he'd do well on tomorrow's transfiguration quiz to prevent McGonagall's wrath. Although he'd lost count after the twelfth repetition, he'd estimated he was somewhere near twenty when he heard voices drifting down towards him.  
  
Too soft to recognize, he frowned and drew his wand. While he was certain that Methos had not kept any other basilisks in the castle, that still left a lot of options for whom or what the mysterious voices belonged to. Drawing his wand, he slowly made his way forth. As he got closer, the voices became more distinct, and as he heard the shrill voice of McGonagall, he put his wand back, realizing he was safe. Safe, but curious.  
  
He crept down the hall even further, until he could hear exactly what they were saying.  
  
"The boy needs guidance, Severus!"  
  
The potions teacher laughed. "You call telling a student that he won't be able to perform up to standards on the N.E.W.T.S because he's not behaving in an a perfectly acceptable manner that is not dictated by you personally guidance?"  
  
Harry could almost hear the sneer. Part of him wanted to move on, being well and truly sick of arguments about him. The rest of him, the part that had just had to know, won out and he stayed put. If they were going to argue about him, he wanted to know what was said.  
  
"I resent that, Severus! The boy's recent work was lacking."  
  
"Give me a break, Minerva! I've seen his work! While it may not be on the level of Miss Granger, it's certainly more than decent enough for him to pass-both the written and the practical. There hasn't even been time for them to slip to a point where Mr. Potter could fail."  
  
"Why do you care so much, Severus?"  
  
"I refuse to let you bully around anyone just because Dumbledore deems it so."  
  
"Dumbledore?" Harry mouthed to himself in the silence that followed Snape's accusation.  
  
Finally, she responded. "We're just trying to do what's best for him. He's still just a boy!"  
  
Harry crept closer to the door.  
  
Snape snorted. "When was Harry Potter ever just a boy, Minerva? Dumbledore never let him be one! Let's try to figure out the day he ceased being one, shall we? Perhaps it was the day Potter fought the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets unaided? Or maybe it was before that. Maybe it was the day we had to line the path to the Mirror of Erised with puzzles to theoretically "stop" the boy from getting through? He is not a boy. He is a man, and since Christmas, his world had gotten five, no ten times more complicated and dangerous! He must learn to survive on his own, Minerva. If survival means that he's a little more Slytherin that our dear Gryffindor-loving headmaster likes, then so be it! You and Dumbledore will just have to accept it and move on."  
  
McGonagall said nothing.  
  
"Think about it, Minerva. Albus has good intentions, but doesn't always go about things in the right way. Loyalty is good, blind loyalty dangerous." He paused. "Potter is going to be on his own sooner or later. The longer Albus waits to cut the strings, the greater the chance that he won't survive when he finally can think for himself."  
  
Harry scowled; he thought for himself quite a bit, thankyouverymuch.  
  
"If you don't trust him to think for himself, Severus, then why do you care what Albus does?"  
  
"We've no proof that Potter makes intelligent decisions. All his actions up to now have been dictated by our dear Headmaster's whims, or are ones that have been decided by pure Gryffindor foolishness, which I'm quite sure is Albus' work." Bitterly, Severus added, "After all in Albus' view, you have to be certain that the damned brat will let himself be killed to save the world, because Merlin forbid that he have to do anything that would make him leave his cozy office."  
  
Silence.  
  
Finally, Minerva asked, "Just why do you care so much, Severus? You've never shown any sign of liking the boy."  
  
Harry couldn't wait to hear the answer. He knew it was going to be good.  
  
"Simple, Minerva. If Potter dies, then I lose my quite entertaining hobby of Potter baiting."  
  
"Severus!"  
  
Harry snorted to himself. Of course.  
  
"We all have our pastimes, Minerva. Don't begrudge me mine."  
  
Harry had a feeling that this particular argument could go on all night. Making sure to stay out of the light, Harry snuck by the office, and returned to Gryffindor tower.  
  
* * * Lunchtime chatter filled the Great Hall with a buzz of business that only barely registered with Harry today his mind still digesting the conversation of last night.  
  
He picked at his shepherd's pie and studied the Head Table. Snape was engaged in an discussion with Duncan, and Methos talking animatedly with Madam Pince, undoubtedly over some book he found in the corner of the Restricted Section. Flitwick was talking with his usual gaiety to Dumbledore.  
  
Dumbledore. Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. Dumbledore saw him and smiled politely. Harry frowned. He had to ask Dumbledore if what Sirius said was true; if what Snape said was true. He had to know.  
  
He chatted pleasantly with his housemates for the rest of the meal period, keeping an eye on Dumbledore. He got jabbed in the arm playfully more then once, as he seemed unable to keep his mind on the conversations at hand. Right now, who was going to win on the professional Quidditch circuit just didn't seem as important.  
  
Finally though, he saw Dumbledore getting ready to leave. He excused himself from the table after promising to play chess with Ron later that afternoon, before running up to Dumbledore.  
  
"Excuse me, sir. May I talk to you? In private?"  
  
"For you, Harry, any time. Follow me."  
  
With trepidation, Harry followed him through the twisty passages and up the staircase to his office. He said hello to Fawkes before taking a seat. He felt rather small all of a sudden, like he was a first year again.  
  
"How can I help you, Harry?"  
  
Harry took a deep breath, and looked Dumbledore straight in the eyes.  
  
"Why did you lie to me?"  
  
"I have never lied to you Harry."  
  
"Yes, you did. About my godfather. You said that Sirius wouldn't be coming to visit me because Adam opposed it. But that's not true."  
  
"Why would I try to keep you from him?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. But I've only been able to see him once this year, whereas in the past you were more free with his visits."  
  
"You saw him, Harry?" The twinkle in Dumbledore's eye suddenly dimmed a little.  
  
"I did. A few days ago." He took another deep breath. "Adam set it up and brought him here."  
  
Dumbledore paused, seemingly a little confused about how he could have got in without anyone knowing. Certainly no one had seen the oversized dog on the grounds.  
  
"I see."  
  
"And he said that you hadn't written to him in quite some time, and that Adam set up the meeting."  
  
Silence stretched between them for another minute. "I see," Dumbledore repeated. He pushed a small bowl of candies towards Harry. "Lemon drop?"  
  
Harry pushed the bowl back. "No disrespect meant, sir, but I want the truth, not some sweets. Why did you lie to me, especially over something like this? Why say anything at all?"  
  
Dumbledore was trapped, and both knew it. Harry waited to see what answer Dumbledore could possibly give him.  
  
"I was only doing what I thought to be right, Harry."  
  
"How is keeping me from my godfather right?" Harry asked incredulously. "He's the only family I've got!"  
  
"You see, Harry."  
  
Harry shook his head. "You can't even tell me the truth, can you? Professor Snape was right, wasn't he? I'm just a puppet, meant to kill Voldemort for you."  
  
"Mr. Potter!"  
  
Bitterly, Harry replied, "I should have known that you had more then just my own best interests at heart. How can I trust anything you tell me now, Professor? How can I trust you?"  
  
Dumbledore stayed silent.  
  
"I see." Harry pushed himself up with shaky arms. "I see."  
  
He left.  
  
* * * Methos got the summons to Dumbledore's office that evening after detention had finished being served.  
  
As soon as he entered the office, Methos took a seat, and without hesitating, began, "Hello, Albus. How may I help you?"  
  
"When did you bring Sirius Black here?"  
  
"Two days ago."  
  
"How did you bring him here?"  
  
Methos smirked slightly. "I helped build this castle. The castle remembers me. Don't bother searching for the passage I used. You'll never find it."  
  
Dumbledore ignored the taunt. "Why did you bring Sirius here?"  
  
Methos rolled his eyes, "What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? Why shouldn't I have brought Black here? Harry has a right to see his godfather."  
  
The elderly wizard leaned forward. "Surely your reasons went beyond a bit of generosity, Mr. Pierson."  
  
Methos shrugged, not denying the accusation. "You deliberately tried to manipulate my student into not trusting me. Unfortunately for you, we'd had a talk about this the day after I arrived. I simply exposed the lie. The boy has to learn sooner or later."  
  
"I find it interesting, Mr. Pierson, that you would try to expose me as a manipulator, when you are worse than I am."  
  
"At least Harry has always known what I am, due to my reputation, and now that he knows me personally, he knows full well of what I'm capable of-the difference between us though, is that I have never manipulated him, not in the ways that you have." Methos stood. "I presume there's nothing else?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head.  
  
Methos headed towards the stairs, but stopped before he was out of Dumbledore's sight. "Godric Gryffindor was a fool, but even he knew that provoking me was a bad idea. I can be a nice person. I want to be a nice person; but if you provoke me enough, I will do whatever it takes to win. And I will win. Goodnight, Professor Dumbledore."  
  
Methos left.  
  
Seconds later, Albus Dumbledore grabbed a quill and piece of parchment and began to write.  
  
* * * There was a perceptible tension in the Great Hall for the next few days. Snape and McGonagall spoke to each other only when strictly necessary, and even then with only the barest pretenses of civility. Harry refused to look at Dumbledore, and now Flitwick had to spend his time dividing conversation between Methos (who had won him over with a few unique charms) and Dumbledore, who he couldn't pull into one conversation to save himself.  
  
Three days after the fight between Methos and Dumbledore, the Malfoys' eagle owl came soaring into the great hall. No one took mind of it; the owls were always coming in and out at breakfast time. What was surprising was that instead of heading for Draco like it always did, it instead landed aside Methos' platter.  
  
Raising an eyebrow, he took the scroll, and gave her a few Knuts before sending her off to the owlery. He wasn't expecting anything, and Lucius generally preferred to fire talk with him if he had news to send. What ever it was, it was bound to be important.  
  
He took the scroll, and unwrapped to discover a second piece of parchment. He set that aside, and began to read Lucius' elegant hand writing,  
  
Adam,  
  
It appears that Dumbledore is unhappy with you. He sent along this petition to the Board of Governor's several days ago. It appears he wants you removed. Although I may not be on the Board myself anymore, I do still have quite an influence over the other members. To get to the point, your position at Hogwarts is secured through the time of Mr. Potter completing his education. The other governors agree that a fully trained Harry Potter is more than worth Dumbledore's discomfort about your presence, especially since he has nothing to prove his claims of illicit magic with.  
  
I have enclosed a copy of the petition with my letter, so you may know for yourself exactly what was said.  
  
Until our next luncheon, Adam  
  
Lucius Malfoy  
  
Methos frowned, and quickly scanned the petition. Dark magic indeed. How could anything he taught Harry be considered "Dark" magic when the magics themselves predated the invention of it?  
  
"And you wonder why I haven't been more friendly with Dumbledore, Duncan." Methos muttered and passed the two notes over to a confused Duncan and Snape. "Excuse me."  
  
He stood up, and walked towards the giant double doors that lead into the Great Hall; Dumbledore had just excused himself having received his morning mail. Methos could see the Ministry seal on the letter in his hand.  
  
"That was rather a cheap move, Albus. Shame for you I've got friends in high places."  
  
"Lucius Malfoy has no friends, only pawns."  
  
"I think you'll find it the other way around this time, Dumbledore. Besides, it's just an expression."  
  
"Are you done, Mr. Pierson?"  
  
"No. Not quite. I am going to be here through the rest of term because the Ministry has ordered you to let me stay put. Believe me that I'm planning to take full advantage of it. While Hogwarts may be plenty big, it's going to get smaller and smaller if you persist in fighting with me. If you continue to drive me out, I'll move our lessons to one of the numerous secret chambers that can only be opened by Parseltongue, removing him from your presence all together. So what do you say, you ignore me, I ignore you, and we both refrain from manipulating Harry?"  
  
Dumbledore pointed ignored Methos and began walking again.  
  
"That's mature." Methos returned to the head table, and the few students who had strained their hearing to pick up on what was going on started buzzing amongst themselves over choice piece of news.  
  
He returned to the head table. "I'm suddenly not hungry any more," he told Duncan. "I'll see you later."  
  
Duncan made a move to stand, but Methos shook his head, and left the Great Hall.  
  
* * * Things quieted down a bit over the next few days as Harry refused to give any answers about what was going on, and no one-not even the faculty-were stupid enough to ask Snape what the problem was. A few had approached McGonagall, but she was equally tight lipped. Bored, the students had moved on, but there were subtle changes to be found, if one knew where to look.  
  
Harry continued to do his best in Charms and Potions-although he didn't really have much choice, considering both Adam and Snape were all too good at "incentives" for better performance, should he not do as well as expected. He still made up his Divination homework with Ron, although after four years, they'd been forced to start repeating ways for Harry to die, and some predictions-like that he'd get killed by a blue spotted double- ended skrewt were so ridiculous that not even Trelawney bought them.  
  
In Transfiguration, though, he only did what was necessary to keep McGonagall off his back, and nothing more. Oddly enough though it didn't seem to be much more then the work he'd done before the last chat with her. He didn't question the change, however, and took advantage of the bit of free time to relax.  
  
Relaxation. Something that had seemed foreign to Harry since the term started again; he'd been so busy with schoolwork, revision, practices and "detention" with Snape. Free time had become a precious commodity, and he'd learned to savor it. Which was why he was currently engaged in a game of Wizard's Chess with Duncan. For once, he was actually winning. The fact that Duncan's men continually quarreled amongst themselves while Harry's were more or less were used to him didn't help the older Immortal any. He'd just trapped Duncan's king in check again when they both felt Methos heading towards the room. Looking up from the board, they saw a rather dejected Methos.  
  
Duncan stood up. "What's wrong? Is it Dumbledore again?"  
  
Methos shook his head. "I wish. At least he's easy to deal with."  
  
"What is it then?" Harry asked, before sharply reprimanded his pieces to be quiet once they'd started to whine that they wanted to finish the game and vanquish Duncan's king.  
  
"It's Lucius. He wants me to go to a Death Eater meeting."  
  
Silence.  
  
Finally, Duncan asked hesitantly, "That's bad, isn't it?"  
  
"Things could get very messy, very quickly."  
  
"Do you have to go?" asked Harry.  
  
Methos nodded. "I owe it to the man. I'm still here, after all. And after the past weeks of seeming to be interested in the group it would seem rather odd as to why I wouldn't want to go."  
  
Harry nodded. "And an upset Malfoy is never a good thing."  
  
"You've dealt with him before, haven't you?" asked Duncan.  
  
"Yes. It's right up there with serving detention for Snape on my list of fun things to do."  
  
The other Immortals laughed. "Poor you," Methos teased, "I'll be sure to tell Severus that."  
  
Harry grinned. "Don't bother. He already knows."  
  
Duncan smiled, but it quickly disappeared. "So you're going to go, aren't you?"  
  
"I don't really see another alternative."  
  
"You'd better have a plan, Methos. Voldemort's a bit.touchy sometimes."  
  
Methos laughed. "That's an interesting way of putting it. I've got a bit of time before I have to go. I need to do a bit of research though. If I remember correctly, there's some pretty powerful Egyptian death magic.of course, it's been almost three thousand years since I did any of it."  
  
Harry gave him a curious look. "Methos?"  
  
"One day, I'll give you that talk on just how old I really am."  
  
Harry blinked. "Okay."  
  
Duncan asked the more important question. "If it's been so long, how are you going to remember any of it?"  
  
"My journal. You don't think I just kept laundry lists in there, do you?"  
  
Duncan snorted. "Somehow, I didn't think so." He frowned for a second. "You put preservation spells on them, didn't you?"  
  
Methos nodded, pleased with Duncan's question. "Of course. Books like that just don't survive on their own without a little bit of assistance."  
  
"Diary?" Harry asked, just a little nervous. He really didn't need any more magic diaries in his life.  
  
"I've been keeping it as long as I can remember. When I need more space, I just add a bit more parchment in. I've had it since the days I first began to study magic. It was a gift to me from the High Priest of Set so I could keep track of my studies. I've had it with me ever since. It chronicles everything from my studies, to people I met, to just random things I wanted to capture about the place and time I was living in. When you get to be my age, the memory starts to go a bit."  
  
Harry snickered at that thought, prompting Methos to swat at his head lazily. "I'm not senile, you know."  
  
"Of course not," Harry said innocently.  
  
Methos sighed. "I'm just glad Kalas didn't destroy it. We'd be up the bloody Nile without a paddle right now if he did."  
  
"Who's Kalas?"  
  
Duncan smiled sympathetically, a touch happy that for once he actually knew what Methos was talking about. "An old enemy. When this is all done we'll sit back, and I'll tell you a few stories."  
  
Methos pointed his thumb at Duncan. "A few? He could go on for a decade with the enemies he's fought." He looked at his watch. "I'd better get to my research. I've only got two weeks to find and try to get that spell down pat. Ah, blessed caffeine, what on earth would I do with out you? If you need me, I'll be in my study. Harry, for the time being, I want you to keep practicing with Duncan, and work on refining what I've already taught you. If I can find what I need in time, maybe I'll teach you the spell as I'm relearning it. It couldn't hurt."  
  
"Yes, sir." Harry replied.  
  
Methos nodded at the two Immortals and left the room.  
  
"Can he do it, Duncan?" Harry asked.  
  
Duncan nodded. "If there's any Immortal out there who can, it's Methos. After all," he forced a smile, "surviving is what he does best."  
  
"I hope so."  
  
Duncan noticed the unsettled look on Harry's face. "Something wrong, Harry?"  
  
"It's just."  
  
"Just what?"  
  
"Well, for the past seven years of my life, I've always been told about how I defeated Voldemort again, and again. How he's always been after me, and how one day we'll face each other in some kind of final battle, where the Light and I will again triumph and Voldemort will be defeated again once and for all. If Methos kills Voldemort.what's left for me? It'll be like I let everyone down because I didn't do what was expected of me."  
  
Duncan looked at Harry. "I know how you feel. It just seems like something that although you didn't start it, you feel obligated to finish it."  
  
Harry nodded. "Exactly."  
  
"Tell me, Harry, have you ever refused to go after Voldemort when you specifically knew that he was up to something, or to try and stop him?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No."  
  
"And you've defeated him in the past before, yes?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah, but I don't get what you're leading to."  
  
"You aren't shirking on your duty. You've done all that you can, and you've done an amazing job of it as well. I'm sure most fully-grown wizards could never accomplish all that you have. Look, as much as we may wish they would, things don't always resolve in ways that we would like. If Methos has to kill Voldemort, then I hope to god that he's successful, but I certainly won't look down on you for not killing him, nor will anyone else. Why? Because he'll be dead. Unable to hurt anyone else, unable to kill anyone else, and isn't that what this is al labout?"  
  
Harry nodded. "I suppose."  
  
"It's not easy to swallow, and something I still have trouble managing myself, but sometimes, you just have to."  
  
"I'll try," Harry said.  
  
Duncan smiled. "Good, and in the mean time, you can help Methos research."  
  
Harry groaned. "I hate research, and besides, I thought Methos wanted me to keep practicing."  
  
"Even Methos needs a little help now and then."  
  
Harry smiled at that, and let Duncan lead him to the stack of books on Egyptian magic.  
  
* * * A week and a half after Methos had got news of the Death Eater meeting, Harry sat in the Quidditch stands watching the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams fly overhead in a scrimmage match. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone flying; just learning how to fight had taken up so much of his time. The added pressure of trying to get Methos' death magic up to par again hadn't helped, and left Harry with almost no time to breathe, let alone do something as frivolous as fly. He still took care of his Firebolt, but when one didn't fly, one didn't have a lot of maintenance to do. He'd heard rumors that a non-competitive Quidditch league was going to open up in the spring for those who didn't play on the house teams. He wondered if they'd let him play, or if they'd disqualify him because he'd be seen as too much of an advantage for one team to have him on their side. Failing that, there was the occasional pick up match.  
  
"I bet they wouldn't even let me play that," he muttered bitterly to himself. Quidditch was Quidditch, the risk still there, and the danger of being discovered. Probably not, he decided.  
  
"Play what, Harry?"  
  
Harry turned around and saw Seamus standing above him.  
  
"Oh, hey Seamus. Just the spur-of-the-moment Quidditch matches."  
  
"Who'd stop you?"  
  
"Professor Snape. Who else?" He didn't feel like mentioning Adam.  
  
"Why'd he care if you play a pick-up match? It's not like it counts for House points. Not that Gryffindor is going to win this year anyway." From where the points stood now, Slytherin stood to sweep the Quidditch season. Without the added points, and the distinct possibility that Harry wouldn't be getting any last minutes from Dumbledore this year it seemed likely that Slytherin, or possibly even Ravenclaw would take the House Cup.  
  
Harry didn't look at his friend. "I don't want to explain. It's.complicated."  
  
Seamus shrugged. "Whatever, I won't press it."  
  
"Why are you here?" Harry asked  
  
"I can't come see how my friend is? You've seemed a bit lost the past few days."  
  
Harry chuckled weakly. "You've found me." He got a light punch on his shoulder for his trouble.  
  
"You know I didn't mean it that way, Harry."  
  
He smiled. "I know."  
  
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"  
  
"I want to but."  
  
"It's complicated," Seamus finished for him.  
  
"Yeah. I'm sorry." He was sorry. He desperately wished he could tell anyone- Ron, Hermione, the other boys in his dormitory, even Hagrid, but he wouldn't break the promise to Adam. He understands all too well why he had to keep it to himself.  
  
"It's about You-Know-Who, isn't it? That's why you've got to keep it a secret. It's all right. I'm sure I'll hear all about it at the end of term after you've earned us a ton of bonus points and the House Cup." Seamus replied.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said hollowly.  
  
"Come on. Cheer up. The guys and I are starting a Exploding Snap tournament. Winner gets a case of butter beer, a bottle of fire whiskey, and a servant in the runner up for a week. We've got people from all the houses signed up, even Malfoy's playing."  
  
Harry perked up. Malfoy the house elf, for an entire week. He grinned to himself just at the thought of making him wear a suitably enlarged pillowcase for the week. "Count me in."  
  
"I knew I could count on you. Come on!"  
  
Harry laughed and followed Seamus back into the castle.  
  
* * * Though Harry didn't win, and Malfoy didn't end up in a pillowcase (although Terry Boot did look rather fetching, if a little green at the thought of serving Goyle-and by proxy Malfoy-who by some act of God had managed to win), watching the tournament proved to be great fun, and he was glad that he'd joined up. Ron had even got Hermione to come down and watch, and Seamus had dug up some liquor to spike the punch that Harry had got Dobby to serve them. The teachers had even left them alone, perhaps because they didn't know about the alcohol part of their wager.  
  
At the moment, he was cheering Boot on as he was paraded around in his new day wear, a pillow case in Slytherin green trimmed with silver stain ribbon on the edges, when Harry felt the buzz of an Immortal approaching. Setting his drink down, he quickly headed for the door, hoping to get to it before Duncan could get inside, so that his friends could continue to party.  
  
He made it, but only just. "I'll talk to you out there Duncan, please? I don't want them to get into trouble."  
  
Whatever news Duncan had brought, it was important enough that Duncan didn't even fight it; instead he just nodded.  
  
Harry had one of the Patil twins let Ron and Hermione know that he'd gone, and quickly left the room.  
  
With a hushed voice, Duncan said, "It's Adam. He's got to go, tonight."  
  
"But I thought it wasn't for another four days!"  
  
"Yeah, so did he. Plans change. Everyone's being summoned tonight."  
  
"Bollocks."  
  
Duncan smiled grimly. "You can say that again. Come on, Adam wants to see you."  
  
They hurried down the hall down to the Slytherin dungeons, into Methos' suite. Adam stood there pacing back and forth, wearing not his customary working robes, but rather ones made out of white wool. Harry frowned. He was pretty sure Death Eaters wore black robes.  
  
"Like my outfit, Harry? Just transfigured them myself." Methos moved over to where his journal lay open to one of the numerous pages with spells on them, and began running a finger over the hieroglyphs. Both Methos and Harry agreed that once this was all over they were going to sit down and do some serious translation, so if there was a next time, the spells would be there in easier-to-read English.  
  
"But Death Eater's wear black," Harry pointed out.  
  
"I'm not a Death Eater, am I?" Methos asked, not looking up.  
  
"No. I suppose you're not."  
  
Quietly, MacLeod said, "No. You're Death."  
  
Methos simply nodded. "If Lucius or Voldemort think that they can control me, or get me to join the Death Eaters, they're wrong. Besides, it will help me stand out. I'm Salazar Slytherin, a man looked up to as some kind of God by many of these people. I should stand out. It will make things all the more poignant if I have to resort to killing Voldemort."  
  
"But they won't get the reference."  
  
Methos shook his head. "It's not for them that I wear it. It's for me. To remind myself that I can do this."  
  
Realization hit Harry. "You're scared, aren't you?"  
  
"Of course I am. You'd be a fool not to be."  
  
"I didn't." Harry blushed. "I didn't think you would be. You've been so calm and collected about it all week."  
  
Methos looked up. "Fear isn't a bad thing, as long as you don't let it overwhelm you. Unless we're talking phobias, you fear something because it's a risk to you and your well being. I'm all about staying in one piece." He started muttering Egyptian under his breath, before cursing. "Damn. I wish we had a test animal in here. I need more practice."  
  
"Could we transfigure something?" Harry asked. The past week they'd been clearing the grounds of some of the slugs that had inhabited Professor Sprout's greenhouses; she'd been rather pleased to have a volunteer to keep her garden clean, even if she didn't know why Harry wanted them.  
  
Methos thought about it. "I'm not really sure. This kind of spell is similar to the magic of the Dementors-it carries the soul away to another plane. I don't know if a transfigured animal has the necessary consciousness."  
  
"We could find out."  
  
"How?" asked Duncan.  
  
Harry frowned, and then took a fairly new book off the shelf. He concentrated and with a rather decisive flick of the wand turned the book into a rather impressive boa constrictor like he'd seen at the zoo so long ago. "We ask."  
  
Methos laughed. "Clever boy. Do you want to ask, or shall I?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I'll do it." He looked at the snake, and his eyes unfocused a bit.  
  
"Do you remember being a book?"  
  
"What'sssss a book?"  
  
Methos frowned. "Guess not."  
  
Harry thanked it, ended the spell and replaced the book back on the shelf.  
  
"I'll take it that was a no?" hazarded Duncan.  
  
Methos nodded. "Yeah. It looks like we'll just have to wing it, and pray that things don't get that bad."  
  
Everyone seemed to get lost in their own thoughts then. Finally, Duncan asked, "When do you leave?"  
  
Methos looked up at the clock. "I'd better get going. I'm to meet Lucius at his house in twenty minutes. We're going to eat, and then when he gets summoned go to the meeting."  
  
"Does Snape know about it?"  
  
"No, why would he?" Methos asked as he took off his robe and placed it over his arm. It looked so different from the robes he normally wore that he didn't want to raise anyone's suspicions  
  
"He didn't tell you? I mean; he's a Death Eater too. Well, he was one. He's been spying on Voldemort for Dumbledore for years."  
  
"He is? I wonder why he hasn't said anything," Duncan wondered.  
  
"I doubt it's something he's proud of."  
  
"Then I'd better go now and let him know. I'm sure he'll appreciate the warning." He walked towards the door, patting Duncan on his shoulder. "I promise I'll be back. I don't know when, but I will return."  
  
Duncan nodded. "Be careful, Methos"  
  
Methos nodded. "Thanks, Highlander." He left. 


	8. Finale

7. Finale  
  
"A white robe, Adam?" Lucius asked. "I thought you knew that you were to wear black. No matter, we can fix it easily."  
  
Methos gave Lucius a look. "I'm not an idiot, Lucius. I'm perfectly entitled to wear a white robe, and I'll not have you 'fixing' it on me."  
  
"Lord Voldemort will be displeased that you are standing out."  
  
With more then a hint of malice, Methos asked, "And is Lord Voldemort stupid enough to openly argue with Salazar Slytherin in front of his Death Eaters over a silly little thing like the color of a robe?"  
  
Lucius shook his head. "Of course not. Forgive me."  
  
"Well then, shall we eat?"  
  
Lucius nodded. "This way. The House Elves have everything already set up. We have a little more then an hour until we get called."  
  
Methos nodded and followed Lucius into the dining room. The sooner he could be done with this, the better.  
  
* * *  
  
Methos eyed the circle of trees around him. He muttered to himself, "How typical." Turning back to the group, he saw people talking quietly to each other while the last few stragglers Apparated in and took their place in the semi-circle that surrounded Voldemort, Lucius, a person that Lucius identified as Peter Pettigrew, and himself. He suspected the conversation was about himself. In the bright light of the full moon his robe almost seemed to glow, making it impossible to miss him. He was glad for that. He wanted to be seen.  
  
Voldemort stood forward, and all those before them dropped to their knees in supplication.  
  
"Arise, my Death Eaters. I have a gift for you tonight."  
  
They stood.  
  
"My faithful servant has found him, the one man we revere above all others. The greatest of our kind, the first to publicly admit that Mudbloods are a stand on the name Wizard!"  
  
There was a quiet hiss of agreement. It was oddly discomforting to not hear yells of agreement.  
  
"A man who I have attempted to emulate in my every move, my every plan, from the day I set loose the Basilisk on the pathetic Mudblood until now when I stand before you as your leader in this glorious quest!" There was a subtle shift in Voldemort's tone. It became darker, and more scathing. "Salazar Slytherin, the noblest wizard to have ever lived stands before us tonight! May we all bask in his glory, and strive to learn from him, so that we may one day capture that bane of our existence, Harry Potter!  
  
"The boy has been allowed to live for too long, and even now he grows ever more dangerous." He turned to face Methos, red eyes level with Methos' hidden ones. "Even more dangerous than before, because it seems that Slytherin has betrayed us and is training Potter to destroy me!"  
  
A louder murmur then before.  
  
"We will deal with the traitor who brought him here later though." Voldemort briefly looked at Lucius, who seemed too unworried for someone who had just been directly threatened by Voldemort.  
  
Voldemort looked at Methos again, closing the distance between them. "How could you do this to us? How could help that half-breed brat?"  
  
"Because you are an idiot. Back away from me, now." The only warning Methos would give as he reached for his wand.  
  
Voldemort growled and went for his wand, but Methos was quicker.  
  
Voldemort fell just as easily as Gryffindor had all those centuries ago. Several Death Eaters reached for their wands.  
  
"Drop them. Now." He stepped over the paralyzed body of Voldemort. "You saw how easily I felled him, I could do the same to you."  
  
Wands fell to sides quickly, and Methos looked down at Voldemort's fallen body.  
  
"Last time I checked you were a half-breed brat yourself. I do what I do because you make me sick. I had a legitimate reason for abhorring Mudbloods in my day-not that any of you would know that, because I didn't get to write history. Gryffindor did," He spat.  
  
"It took a few centuries and a decrease of fear of magic that Mudbloods had, but I've finally come to see that they aren't so worthless after all. Some of the most powerful wizards in modern time came from Muggle parents. And in the end, it's not the purity of blood that matters, but your power. I don't give a shit if you can count your bloodlines back twenty generations, if you can't so much as levitate a feather, as a wizard you are nothing."  
  
He moved closer to the other Death Eaters, as Voldemort spasmed behind him. "I bet you want to know the other reason why I'm helping him, don't you?" There were a few barely perceptible nods. Methos turned around and looked down on the reptilian wizard. Bemusedly, he began. "Harry Potter is my Heir. He is of the same blood, has the same gifts. You? You are nothing. Do you really think that I'm the only Wizard in Britain to have ever been a Parseltongue? You never transferred your powers to the boy; they always have been his."  
  
He laughed. A murmur of commentary started up, all propriety forgotten.  
  
"SILENCE!" Methos ordered.  
  
"I think the lot of you are pathetic. Do you really think you can make and maintain this brave new world of yours? Especially when you consider how vastly outnumbered you are? You can hardly run things if you have to spend every waking second of every day killing just to get to manageable numbers. No. If I wanted to rule the world you'd all have been kneeling at my feet years ago, when I had the chance. And believe me, I've had the chance."  
  
A mask may have hidden Methos' look, but the disdain in his voice was clear. "I'm through with the lot of you. I'm going to let your leader go now, if anyone so much as raises a wand towards me, Tommy boy here dies. Any questions?"  
  
No one spoke a word, and no one moved a muscle. With a quick movement of his wand, Methos freed Voldemort from his magical bondage, who stood, seething, but silent, and he began to walk away.  
  
But as he walked away to the edge of the clearing, he heard Lucius Malfoy call out. "Slytherin!"  
  
Methos spun around, and uttered the incantation and offered a quick prayer to Set that it would work.  
  
And it did.  
  
Blue lightning, not unlike a Quickening, came from the sky, cocooning Voldemort's body, drawing the soul out of the dying man bit by bit as the person who used to be Tom Riddle screamed in agony. All present watched as the dark cloud hovering about the body grew and grew until in a final tremendous boom it disappeared leaving a still silence and a corpse a shade of gray only seen in those who had been Kissed.  
  
There was no doubt in anyone's mind. Lord Voldemort was finally, permanently, dead.  
  
Methos finally used Mobliocorpus to move the corpse to his side. He looked at Lucius. "No matter why you warned me, I thank you." He paused. "I suppose the Death Eaters are yours now. If you, or any of your men ever come near me or my Heir again, you will die. If you start attack Mudbloods again, and I trace it back to you, you will die. Am I understood?"  
  
Lucius bowed to him. "Of course. I owe you that much, my Lord. We could have been powerful."  
  
"Correction: I am powerful. I have been for a thousand years and I will continue to be. I don't need to enslave others to prove that to myself. Good bye, Lucius."  
  
As Methos left, he could hear the arguments begin to break out. Excellent. It would give him the time he needed.  
  
* * *  
  
It was an hour before sunrise when Severus finally staggered into Dumbledore's office. He had been planning to go to bed and beg off as sick, but Minerva had been waiting for him by the entrance. Word must have spread fast.  
  
"Severus, what is the meaning of this?" Dumbledore pushed towards him a copy of the newest issue of the Daily Prophet, almost a quarter of the page taken up by the headline, "VOLDEMORT DEAD!" a sub caption reading "Ministry in possession of corpse."  
  
There was a picture of Methos standing next to Fudge, the two wizards shaking hands.  
  
Snape frowned, wondering why Dumbledore would be upset over the victory they'd so desperately wanted. "It means that what we've been trying to accomplish for almost twenty years has finally happened."  
  
"Why didn't you report this to me sooner?".  
  
Dryly, Snape replied, "As you can imagine, there was not a small amount of chaos amongst the Death Eaters after they all watched Voldemort's soul get sucked out of his body. The night was spent arguing about what to do, if even we do anything, considering the grounds rules that have been set by Mr. Pierson."  
  
"And what was decided?" asked Dumbledore, even though he didn't seem to be particularly interested in this information.  
  
"Nothing. The power struggle ought to be spectacular. If you'll excuse me, Albus, I am in desperate need of sleep."  
  
Dumbledore waved in permission. "We'll talk later."  
  
"Of course, Headmaster."  
  
Severus left to get some much-needed sleep.  
  
* * * When Snape woke late that afternoon, it was to find Methos amidst a crowd of students all wanting his autograph, and Hogwarts in a state of revelry he hadn't seen since the last fall of Voldemort.  
  
How Methos'd managed to escape the Wizarding media he didn't know, but suspected that he'd rather be there, and then stuck in the horde of students here.  
  
"Hello, Severus!" Methos cheerfully called out over the horde of students.  
  
"Everyone, back off! Give Mr. Pierson some breathing room!"  
  
The students reluctantly back off after Methos promised that he would eventually get an autograph to everyone.  
  
"Aww. The students were just having a bit of fun."  
  
"And how long have they surrounded you?"  
  
"Since I entered the Great Hall at lunch. I think?" He laughed. "No matter. If there's ever a time to celebrate, now is it."  
  
"In speaking of celebrating, I've got some nice wine chilling in my rooms. I'm sure we can find Duncan and Harry. I simply must know how you managed to get the news out before Dumbledore could take advantage of it."  
  
Methos sighed happily. "That is a good story. Come on, let's go. I'm sure if we wait much longer Harry will be a bit too drunk to stand." He pointed to the young Immortal who was with a small circle of friends, bottles of butter beer in hand. Obviously, Dumbledore and Minerva weren't around to officiate things.  
  
Snape nodded and they worked their way over to the Gryffindor clique. They broke Harry away from his friend by asking politely and offering him some cold Muggle ale. Harry nodded happily and followed the two men down to Snape's rooms and the peace and quiet of the Slytherin dungeons. Snape didn't care to speculate on the exact nature of the 'celebrations' that would be occurring amongst the elder member of his house. Voldemort wasn't exactly as popular as one might have thought, and others, like Draco, would be relieved that they'd be no longer expected to join Voldemort's ranks.  
  
They picked up Duncan on the way down and soon made themselves comfortable in Severus' room: Harry and Methos with ale, Duncan and Snape with wine.  
  
"So what really happened last night after you left with Voldemort's body?" Snape asked. Methos had taken the liberty of filling in Harry and Duncan as to what really occurred on the walk down; the paper had reported that Adam had had the misfortune of being brought to the Death Eaters, who had planned to kill them for his training of Harry Potter.  
  
"I had a hunch that should I come back here that Dumbledore would try to find a way to mess it all up, so I went straight to Fudge's mansion. The guards were reluctant at first to admit me, but after they got a good look at the body-formerly-belonging-to-Voldemort they changed their minds and let me in."  
  
Duncan leaned forward, "Then what? I can't imagine Fudge was all the thrilled to be woken, by a stranger no less."  
  
"Didn't have to say much really, I showed him the body, and made up the story you read in the paper. I don't think he particularly cared what I said since Voldemort is undeniably dead. In three days time I'll be getting an Order of Merlin for my 'heroic' deeds and outstanding service to the Wizarding word."  
  
"Wow, that's great! Congratulations," offered Harry.  
  
Methos shrugged. "I tried to turn it down, but he wouldn't be denied. Oh well. All the more reason to move back to the States when the school year ends."  
  
"You're going to stay then?" Harry asked, perhaps a bit more excitedly then he originally intended.  
  
"Of course I am! You're my student, aren't you? I wouldn't abandon you now. Besides, we can now really start to focus on you learning all about Immortality. Believe me, do I have stories to tell."  
  
"And don't worry, you'll hear them all," Duncan muttered.  
  
They all laughed, even Snape. "And, I believe that I still have to teach you two how to fly. I am allowed to just fly about once the weather clears up, aren't I?"  
  
Even Snape couldn't begrudge Harry that. "Certainly. Just no Quidditch."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Methos by now had taken over the couch, his back resting on Duncan's chest. "So, Harry, have you given any thought of what you want to do after you finish?"  
  
"Not really. I mean, for so long it was 'train up to defeat Voldemort.' Now though? I'm not so sure. I've got offers from the Aurors, but." he made a face. "I really have no desire to do that. Living a few years in relative peace would be good. Well, that and it'd be hard to keep my Immortality secret in a profession where an injury a month is average."  
  
Snape seemed impressed that Harry thought that far ahead. "You're growing up, Mr. Potter. A month ago you wouldn't have even taken that into consideration."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Thanks, I guess."  
  
"Why don't you come back to the states with us? Seacouver has a good sized Wizarding population, so you wouldn't have to completely isolate yourself from this life if you don't want to."  
  
"But what about Sirius? I don't want to leave here knowing that he's still not safe." Harry frowned. "Or Remus for that matter. He may not be in as much danger as Sirius, but he doesn't exactly have a chance for a good life if he stays here either." He gave a meaningful look to Snape, who didn't even blink.  
  
Methos shrugged. "They could always join us. It'll be easy enough to get papers for them as well."  
  
"I'll have to think about it and write to them."  
  
"Of course, Harry. This isn't a decision I want you to make lightly."  
  
"Don't worry, I won't."  
  
"What about you, Severus? If Harry decides to join us there, will you be coming with?"  
  
"I did make a promise to watch the brat, didn't I?"  
  
Methos grinned. "So you did."  
  
"We'd better be living close enough to Wizarding world. I refuse to live as a complete Muggle."  
  
"Don't worry, Severus, we'll set something up for you. I understand that there is even a thriving Potions industry out there. Perhaps you could get into research."  
  
Snape's eyes lightened. The thought of doing pure research without being hindered by having to teach students or the Ministry constantly breathing down his neck decidedly appealed to him. "That would be nice."  
  
"Just don't do anything on my account. You don't have to continue to be his Watcher if you don't want to leave England."  
  
Snape shrugged. "Believe me, there is little tying me here."  
  
Just then Duncan tapped Methos lightly on the shoulder then pointed to Harry, whom in the past few minutes had passed out cold, thanks to a lack of sleep and a few bottles of alcohol.  
  
The three men laughed, and with a wicked grin Snape stood. He pointed his wand at the sleeping Gryffindor. "Tempestas!" A small storm began to dump ice-cold water all over the slumbering student. It didn't take long for Harry to wake up. Or more precisely, fall out of the chair in trying to avoid it.  
  
"I'm awake! I'm awake!"  
  
With a huge smirk on his face, Snape ended the incantation over the rather loud, yet semi-muffled laughter of Duncan and Methos.  
  
"Next time you pass out, Potter, do so in your own quarters."  
  
"Bugger off."  
  
"Five points."  
  
"Sod off." Harry said as he began to shiver. Methos took pity and spelled him dry.  
  
"Ten points."  
  
"Boys, boys, that will be enough. Why don't you go run along, Harry? You look like you need the sleep anyway."  
  
Harry blushed. "Yeah. Maybe I will go nap. I'll think about what you said."  
  
The two Immortals cheerfully waved Harry off while Snape continued to snicker at the mental image of a rather harried looking Harry, before Duncan dragged of Methos to do a bit of "celebrating" of their own. 


	9. Courage

8. Courage  
  
Two days later, Harry found himself browsing the shops in Diagon Alley. He and Adam had ventured here on a mini-holiday afforded to them by the Ministry, who had ordered all government offices and schools closed in celebration of Voldemort's defeat. Harry needed some supplies, and Ron's birthday was coming up and nothing in Hogsmeade appealed to them.  
  
Methos had got hold of a Portkey and permission for Harry to leave the grounds for twenty-four hours from the Ministry; in Fudge's eyes; Methos could do no wrong, and he had been more then happy to grant the request.  
  
They had split up about an hour ago; Methos professed a desire to spend some time in the obscure bookshop. Harry had no mind to spend thirty minutes just trying to find the crack in the wall that lead to it, so they agreed to meet up at Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor in two hours time, only after Methos was assured that Harry had both his sword and his wand upon him.  
  
Suddenly, as Harry browsed Quality Quidditch Supplies he felt the buzz of an Immortal. He hesitantly turned around and stared a middle-aged man, one who looked maybe forty or so equally searching the room for the mystery Immortal. His eyes lit up in desire. Harry swallowed. The Boy Who Lived's head would be quite a trophy.  
  
"My name is Kyser Grant. You must be Harry Potter. Tsk. Living as a celebrity must be so difficult for you." He leaned over, "But at least you won't have to worry about that too much longer."  
  
Harry's eyes flared, and with a trembling hand, reached for the sword still hanging invisible under his robes. Trying for a brave voice, he said, "Let's take this somewhere private, shall we?"  
  
"Of course. Follow me."  
  
The two Immortals walked to the end of Diagon Alley, down a passage that Harry had not seen before in his seven years; it was small enough and the shadows fell against it in such a way that if you weren't looking for it, it would be all to easy to miss. He suspected that's why he was being lead here.  
  
They walked down to the end of the alley, where it opened into a fairly large dead end with plenty of room to maneuver. The scorched crates that littered the area made Harry suspect that this would not be the first duel fought here.  
  
As soon as Kyser went for his sword, Harry withdrew his own, making sure to run his thumb down the snake making it reappear. The other immortal didn't even blink an eye.  
  
The two men began to circle around each other, waiting for their opponent to make the first move. Harry was fairly confident in his sword work, but that had always been against Methos or Duncan-outstanding fighters in their own right, but still safe because it had always been for practice. This was for real.  
  
Kyser finally lunged and the battle was joined. Harry quickly realized that while he was good, that the other Immortal was better. Harry managed to slice his leg, but not until after he got cut in the arm. Wincing with pain and feeling the blood drip down his arm, Harry had to think fast as he got knocked onto his back. As the other immortal drew his sword above his hand, Harry lunged quickly and managed to skewer the man through the stomach. Withdrawing it, the Immortal doubled over in pain and fell to his knees, cough up blood and mumbling obscenities. Harry rose to his feet and kicked the other sword far out of the other man's reach. He swung his own sword above his head and brought it quickly and solidly down until he felt the blade hit the stones of the road.  
  
Blearily, he realized that he'd done, that he'd killed the other man when the Quickening started around him. Blue lighting tickled his skin, touching him, tasting him and approving of him before the storm hit him full force. Snapshots of faces, wisps of memories, the screams of vanquished foes filled him all at one, send his senses into overload, his body screaming in pain with as the false lightening hit him again and again. It seemed as if it would go one forever, but then as abruptly as it began, it stopped.  
  
Silence.  
  
He felt like the Basilisk had poisoned him again, he was so weak, but he made himself stand. Blearily, he remembered Methos' instructions for how to deal with the corpse, and made his way to the ice cream shop. Shopping would have to wait.  
  
* * * A month later and spring had finally come into full bloom. The snow had long since melted away, leaving a crisp morning with clear skies and green grass. The perfect day to fly.  
  
Well, the perfect day to fly if you were Harry Potter. Methos and Duncan, however, were not so lucky and clung to their brooms for dear life less then two meters off the ground.  
  
"Remind me why I'm doing this again, Harry?" Methos shouted up to his friend who was literally flying circles a half-meter above them.  
  
"Because it's fun, Methos! You do remember that don't you? It's carefree and quite a rush."  
  
Duncan was suddenly hanging perilously at a forty-five degree angle trying to right himself. "Gah! Help!" Were his last words before his broom bucked him off and send him to the ground. "Ouch."  
  
Snape, who had been persuaded to join them-in Muggle clothing no less, offered Duncan a hand. Snickering he asked, "Are you all right?"  
  
"I just fell on my arse and made myself look like an idiot in front of Harry. Of course I'm all right."  
  
"Don't worry. I won't tell." He sighed. "Such a shame I didn't borrow a camera for this expedition."  
  
Harry snickered, swooped down and got the wayward broom under control, before tossing it back to Duncan. "Brooms are like horses. They can't exactly smell your fear, but they know if they can take advantage of you, and they will."  
  
Methos, meanwhile just finished giving his broom a rather stern talking to and was now floating peacefully along the pasture, at least until Harry came and dove under him, sending the elder man's broomstick into a tailspin. Hanging on for dear life, Methos rode it out, then raised his fist and yelled, "Hey! This is a no harassment zone!"  
  
Harry grinned and attempted an apology as he said, "Um, Sorry?" The fit of laughter rather ruined it though.  
  
Before Methos could retort with a rude reply, a man and a large dog came walking their way.  
  
"Remus! Snuffles!"  
  
Harry quickly sailed to the ground and hopped off his broom running over to hug his friend.  
  
"What are they doing here?" Snape snarled.  
  
"Harry invited us here, Severus." Remus calmly replied.  
  
Harry stepped between the two men. "Look. There's a great chance that the three of you will be in somewhat close contact for the next several years, can we drop the murderous rage? If I can be civil with Malfoy, then you two can certainly not bite off each other's heads."  
  
Snape snorted. "When was the last time you were civil with Malfoy?"  
  
"Potions, last Thursday when you partnered us up. If you'll remember we actually made the potion correctly with out loss of life, limbs, or excess potion ingredients."  
  
Snape grinned wickedly, "Now tell me the last time you were civil to him outside of class."  
  
Harry paused, and a few birds chirped. "Um."  
  
"Ha!"  
  
"Hrmph."  
  
Remus interrupted this amusing, yet petty argument by saying, "Seriously though, if we're going to make a decision about whether or not to come to America with Harry we've got a right to know what we're getting ourselves into."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
Methos tentatively came in for a landing, and managed to do a successful job of it. "Why don't we all sit down, have a drink and discuss it, shall we?"  
  
There were nods of assent, and everyone settled down on a nearby picnic table. Sirius remained as Snuffles, just in case someone did happen to stumble across this little park outside of Hogsmeade.  
  
"So you are going back with them then for certain, Harry?" asked Snape.  
  
Harry nodded. "It seems the right thing to do. And it'll be nice to get away from it all." Although Harry hadn't even been near Voldemort when he died, because of name, and the fact that Adam was his teacher, he was still a celebrity in his own right. He was now able to go to Hogsmeade with relatively little accosting from the townspeople, but not having to deal with any of it seemed even more appealing. "And safer, for that matter," he added.  
  
Remus looked at him confused. Harry still hadn't told him or his godfather about his Immortality.  
  
He looked at Methos for guidance as to what to do. Methos nodded. If Sirius and Remus were going to be a more consistent part of his life, they would figure out something was wrong sooner or later.  
  
Harry took a deep breath. "You see.I'm an Immortal. It means I can live so long as I can keep my head on my shoulders.sounds easy in theory, but in reality there's this thing called the Game, and in order to win the Prize you have to be the last Immortal standing." He took a deep breath. "So, in order to do that, you have to take the heads of other Immortals. Since I'm also the Boy Who Lived, it makes me a rather tempting target for Wizard Immortals." He spent the next few minutes reciting his encounter in Diagon Alley to a rather shocked looking Remus. Harry could tell that Sirius was dying to transform, and just barely holding on to his canine form.  
  
Remus said nothing. "He's serious, isn't he?"  
  
Three heads nodded. "Who would make up a story like that if you didn't have to?" added Duncan.  
  
The werewolf hugged Harry. "You were okay, then?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Shocked a bit by the Quickening-that's what happens when you take another's head. It was just so much at once. It was so overwhelming and draining. It's not something I really want to do again any time soon."  
  
"And you think moving out of the country will help?"  
  
"Yeah. At least this way if someone is hunting for me, it'll likely be because I'm an Immortal, and not the Boy Who Lived. If word ever got out here."  
  
"You'd be a hunted man," finished Remus.  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
Remus looked at Snuffles sympathetically. "I understand why you wouldn't want that." He rubbed Snuffles' head. "Would he," Remus nodded towards the large dog, "be safe there, Adam?"  
  
Methos nodded. "The American Ministry and the British Ministry don't get along very well, I'm afraid. Fudge wanted help from the American Aurors, and they didn't want to commit their resources to something that wasn't a problem for them. Even if the Ministry here figured out that Sirius was gone, I doubt that the Americans would put forth that much of an effort to find him.  
  
Remus nodded. "What about paperwork? I don't know about the rest of you, but I know that I'm not a citizen there."  
  
Methos grinned. "You don't live to be as old as I and not know the ways to get a new identity. I'm going to head for London in a week or two and get all of that sorted out, so I'll need to know soon whether or not you're coming."  
  
"Was there anything else to ask, Snuffles?"  
  
Snuffles shook his head.  
  
"I'll let you know in a few days, Sirius and I need to talk about it a little more first."  
  
"Of course," replied Methos. "Let me know by the end of next week if you could." Remus nodded.  
  
Harry turned to Snape. "Will you be coming with us?" Although he'd been asleep during the initial conversation, Adam had filled him in on it later.  
  
Snape rolled back his sleeve to reveal the Watcher tattoo. "I didn't get this for kicks, Mr. Potter." He looked at Methos, "All things considered, I decided that a change would be good. I'm to talk to Dumbledore about my resignation tomorrow."  
  
Remus looked surprised and Snuffles growled. "He'll be there?"  
  
"I'm the boy's watcher," Snape replied simply. "It's my job to keep an eye on him, and to stand there and let him make idiotic decisions, and write down what happens afterward."  
  
Snuffles growled more and Remus pulled on the leash. "Calm down, Sirius. Now!" Reluctantly, the dog sat, his eyes never leaving Snape's.  
  
"So your job is to spy on Harry?" asked Remus. "Why?"  
  
Methos answered for Snape. "Their job is to 'watch and record, but never interfere.' It's for posterity. The Watchers have a complete history of the Immortals.the amount of influence we have on the world is truly an amazing thing. Granted, some aren't so good at the 'never interfere' thing, but no one's telling."  
  
"We?" asked Remus.  
  
"You've not figured it out yet, Remus? Adam and Duncan are Immortals as well. That's why they took up a spot at Hogwarts. To train me."  
  
"And since you are still here, I'll assume that they're doing a good job."  
  
Methos and Duncan shared a smile and nodded. "Thank you," replied Duncan. "We do what we can."  
  
Remus squinted up towards the sun. "We'd better get going. I've got to check the shop, and undoubtedly Harry's got to get back to Hogwarts soon."  
  
"Yeah. Probably should. I don't need to give McGonagall a reason to give me detention."  
  
"I could still give you detention for being out after you were supposed to have returned, Mr. Potter."  
  
"Prat."  
  
"Detention tonight for language. I swear, Potter, your relatives should have washed your mouth out with soap."  
  
Methos looked at Remus. "You'd better go. This could go on all afternoon. It's rather cute, really."  
  
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Nothing new then?"  
  
Duncan snorted. "Not hardly. The only difference is the level of malice decreases each time."  
  
They listened as both Snape and Harry ran through the standard book of insults, and onto more creative ones involving Hippogriffs and Devil's Snare.  
  
"How interesting." He covered Snuffles' ears. "You'll warn me if they anything starts to happen between them before terms end? It'll be hard enough for me to swallow, let alone trying to find a good time to explain to Sirius."  
  
Methos nodded. "Of course. I'd be bad form to have one of them die at the hands of Sirius in a terminal at Heathrow airport."  
  
Remus stood, grinned and offered his hand. "It was nice meeting you both."  
  
Both Immortals shook Remus' hand as Duncan replied, "It was our pleasure. If you do decide to come out to the States, I'll be happy to help you get settled and find a job or whatever else you need."  
  
"Thank you again. Like I said before, I'll owl you by weeks end. Come along, Snuffles." He had to pull on the leash to get him away from Snape, who was still embroiled in the petty insult fest. As he walked away, he could hear Methos say, "Okay, now really, this is just getting pathetic."  
  
Remus smiled ever so slightly and had to agree. Although he still didn't really understand all that Harry was talking about when it came to his Immortality; it was obvious to Remus that Harry was relaxed and comfortable around these men, and even more important: happy. He couldn't ask for anything more, and would do anything to keep him that way. Perhaps moving to the States wouldn't be so bad after all. His lover could walk the streets, he could get a job, and he'd have the endless entertainment of watching Snape bicker with everyone.  
  
Yes, Seacouver was starting to look quite good.  
  
* * * Snape climbed the stairs to Dumbledore's office; scroll in hand, spirits high. He'd been waiting to do this since the day he first started teaching.  
  
"Ah, Severus! Care for some tea?"  
  
He shook his head. "No thank you, sir."  
  
"Certainly." He felt like he should oblige the old man, especially since it meant that Dumbledore would have a cup himself.  
  
Dumbledore picked up his cup. "And what might I do for you on this fine day?" He began to take a sip.  
  
"Albus," Snape began, a smirk forming on his face. "I quit."  
  
The hot beverage scalded the headmaster's tongue, and he coughed as the tea went down the wrong way.  
  
"Excuse me, Severus?" Dumbledore asked once sufficiently recovered.  
  
"I quit. The day the students leave, so do I."  
  
"I see. May I ask why?"  
  
"I find no pleasure in teaching a bunch of brats with no will to learn. I find having to deal with petty politics to be frustrating and pathetic. If I wanted to spend my time squabbling I'd go back to the mass of infighting that marks the Death Eaters these days. I started working for you because you gave me sanctuary when I realized what a fool I was to have joined with Voldemort. Now that Voldemort is dead, however, I feel like it is time for closure in all things related to him and this part of my life; which includes me working here."  
  
He'd finally made the old man speechless, and it had only taken fifteen years. This was a banner day indeed.  
  
"Since you feel that way, I don't see how I could make you stay here. You are a good teacher, no matter what students may say about you, and I'm sure Hogwarts won't be quite the same without you."  
  
"Thank you, Headmaster." Snape replied demurely, not particularly caring if Dumbledore meant it or not.  
  
"May I ask-and you don't have to answer if you don't want to-but does your resignation have anything to do with Mr. Pierson and Mr. Potter?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, it does. Slytherin is far less stuck up and abrasive as the history books would have you believe, and well, he offered me a job watching Potter, and getting paid to do so. I get to harass him for the next century, at least. How could I refuse?"  
  
Dumbledore was rendered mute yet again. This was quite fun, it was a shame Snape hadn't found the trick sooner.  
  
"I see.well, if there's nothing else I can do for you, Severus." Dumbledore stood and indicated the door.  
  
Snape half bowed. "Have a good day, Headmaster," he said before walking down the stairs. At the bottom, he was greeted by none other then Harry.  
  
"So it's just you, me and a century then, Professor?" he asked cheekily.  
  
Snape briefly wondered if he hadn't burned his bridges so bad that he still might be able to get his job back, but then decided that yes, yes he had.  
  
"It looks that way." He grinned wickedly. "I can't wait to use you as a guinea pigs for new poisons I develop."  
  
Harry laughed. "We'll see if I actually touch anything you prepare for me."  
  
"If I'm doing the cooking, you will."  
  
He stopped laughing. "Who said we'd be living together?"  
  
"Think about it Potter, have you any idea on how to run a magical household?"  
  
Harry shook his head.  
  
"And I've no idea on how to run a Muggle one. I can't imagine you've any desire to completely give up magic any more than I do, especially as once you complete the term you'll be allowed to use magic freely, therefore, I propose that for the first year or two, a place together might be beneficial to us both as we adapt to a mixed lifestyle for living amongst Muggles."  
  
"You've gone stark raving mad, haven't you?" was the only thing Harry could think of to say after a solid minute.  
  
"No, I'm still quite sane. Think it over Potter."  
  
Giving himself another ten points for shutting up Potter as well, Snape returned to the dungeons in the best mood he'd been in ages.  
  
* * * ".and then the prat asked me to live with him! It's going to be bad enough being near him all the time, but to live with the wanker? I think he's gone mad, he says he's quite sane. But if you are mad, doesn't that mean you can't tell whether or not you're with it?"  
  
Ron contemplated this, while Hermione replied, "I think it's quite a good idea, because he does have a good point, and you are only seventeen." She paused. "I still don't get why he's going with you and Adam though."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Adam can teach him things that he won't learn anywhere else, and I'm sure it doesn't surprise you that he's got no love for teaching."  
  
"True. I suppose that spying for Dumbledore was the only reason he was really here. Perhaps they'll get someone competent and personable for next term."  
  
"It still doesn't help us though," Ron griped.  
  
"Cheer up Ron, at least you don't even have to attend school next year." Harry replied. "What are you going to do once we're done anyway?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I think I might go visit Charlie and then maybe if I can find the money, Bill. See how're they're doing, see what's out there. Maybe I'll find something that suits me."  
  
Hermione looked envious. "Oh, that'd be great fun and so interesting. I envy you, Ron. I've got an internship at the ministry in the Muggle-Wizard relations department. I hope to get a full time position some day, and to try and facilitate the merging of our cultures. The Muggles have a lot they could learn from us and vice versa."  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged looks. While no doubt her missive was a good one, it didn't sound particularly exciting.  
  
"And we'll keep in touch no matter what," Hermione said.  
  
Harry nodded. "Of course. I'll send your parents e-mail as soon as I get myself set up. It'll be quicker then the owl post."  
  
"Cheaper too." Hermione added.  
  
Ron blinked. "Er, Harry? Hermione? What's this e-mail?"  
  
Hermione sympathetically patted Ron on the shoulder. "I'll explain it to you on the way to the library. You promised you'd revise for the N.E.W.T.s with me," she grinned coyly.  
  
"Oh yeah. I did, didn't I?"  
  
Harry laughed. "I'll talk to you guys later. Take care, and don't let Madame Pince catch you again! You remember what happened last time!"  
  
Ron winced. "You don't need to remind me, mate."  
  
Hermione waved and dragged her boyfriend off. "Don't worry, Harry! We'll be good."  
  
He laughed, and called back "That's what I'm afraid of!" before heading off to practice with Duncan.  
  
* * * The remainder of the school year went blazing fast due to all the preparation for the N.E.W.T.s. Thanks to Snape and Methos' help, Harry managed to ace his Potions and Charms, and eke out respectable grades in all the rest, including Transfiguration, much to his delight.  
  
It seemed all too soon that the Hogwarts Express pulled into the Kings Cross station; Harry hadn't even had time to have one final duel on the train with Malfoy the voyage had gone so fast, having spent it going around saying good-bye, collecting both street addresses, and from the Muggle- borns, e-mail ones. He spent some time wishing Ginny luck and dispensing advice to a few Gryffindors who wanted some last minute Quidditch advice as they planned to try out to be Seeker next season. All in all, it was a busy ride, and he didn't spend much time of it in his seat.  
  
When he disembarked, the first thing he did was go for his luggage, and then he returned to find Hermione and Ron waiting for him near the gate separating the Muggle platform from the magical one.  
  
Hugging Hermione, she admonished him to take care and to write often. Ron wished him the best of luck and offered to send him some of his brother's joke props if Snape started to drive him mad.  
  
Snape had found him not too long after, admonishing him to hurry up, so they wouldn't miss their flight.  
  
Traffic had been light and they made it to Heathrow in plenty of time. Harry watched as Snape and a disguised Sirius Black began to quarrel over some trivial issue and began planning on how he was going to get Methos to sit between them.  
  
He wasn't sure of what things would be like in Seacouver, what it would be like to finally fully become a part of the Game, no longer living on Holy Ground. He looked forward to meeting some of Duncan's friends, listening to Methos' stories, and finally meeting Joe, whom both Duncan and Methos spoke fondly of.  
  
That fateful day he walked into The Three Broomsticks, Harry would have never predicted anything that had happened to him in the last six months, and as he listened to the attendant announce that boarding had begun, he was glad. Things were different now, and once he made it to Washington, he would stop being the Boy Who Lived and could start living just as Harry Potter. An Immortal Harry Potter, perhaps, but that was good enough for him. 


End file.
